Speak No Evil
by MasqueradeLover
Summary: A silent Loki is banished to Midgard where Tony Stark decides to take him prisoner. Eventual Tony/Loki.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

So maybe it wasn't a good idea to bewitch the Enchantress's sister into becoming enamoured with a goat for the past week—but it was _funny_. And besides, no one else had the sense to tell her she'd been fawning over a farm animal, so it wasn't _entirely_ his fault, now was it? He'd even seen Thor smirk a little at that one, though relieved as his brother had been that Lorelei was no longer after his own affections, he had given Loki a thorough scolding (which Loki had deflected with an eye roll and an exasperated sigh). It was all just a bit of fun, really. There was absolutely no reason for the Enchantress Amora to take it so seriously. It wasn't as if he'd tricked _her_ into writing bad love songs that rhymed _trotted_ with _besotted_ and convinced her to sing them in front of the whole feasting hall. She had absolutely no reason to be upset.

Okay, maybe she had a bit of a reason to be upset. But, really, it wasn't his fault that some drunken moron had offered to set her up with his pig. And seeking her revenge on him rather than the swaying man with the suggestively waggling eyebrows and the spacious barn was _really_ _not fair_. It seemed like everyone lacked a fair sense of justice when it came to dealing with Loki.

"Oh, come now, if you're really _that_ jealous, I can set you up with a ram of your own!" Loki smirked as he backed away from the furious Enchantress, "You and your sister could write duets!"

She sent a power bolt blasting his way and he skittered to the side, feet nearly slipping on the slick surface of the Bifrost beneath his feet.

"Fine! Fine!" he huffed, "How about a stallion? I hear they're quite good at—" The breath was forced out of his lungs as a bolt caught him in the centre of the chest, knocking him down the Bifrost until he was a mere fifteen feet away from Heimdall, who guarded the way between Asgard and Midgard, home of the humans of which the God of Thunder was so fond.

Loki knocked Amora's next bolt out of the air before casting an illusion around her. Dozens of Lokis stood around her, making faces and cackling wickedly while the real Loki tried to sneak away undetected. A powerful hand came down on his shoulder and his illusion rippled like static before Loki could strengthen it once more. It was enough for the Enchantress to rip through the laughing hoard, the figures dissipating into smoke.

"Thank you, Heimdall," she smiled, her lithe fingers digging into the front of Loki's tunic so hard that her nails clawed into his chest. Loki shot a glare at the guardian whose actions were further proof of the whole unfairness the Aesir people seemed to direct solely towards the God of Mischief. Surely Heimdall wasn't still mad about Loki turning his sword into a snake? That was _ages_ ago!

"I'm sorry about your sister," Loki pulled on his most apologetic expression, "but if I hadn't introduced her to her behooved betrothed then she never would have discovered her passion for poetry."

A _crack_ like thunder jolted through the air as Loki's head struck the crystalline surface of the rainbow bridge.

"You just never learn do you, Loki?" the Enchantress's words were ice, stabbing deep into the Trickster's skull. "Not after Odin trapped you in that tree and not after the dwarves sewed your lying lips shut. Nothing you've done has ever been for the benefit of someone else and everything you've ever said has only been to hurt. If you couldn't speak for a million lifetimes it would still be too soon."

Loki squirmed in the woman's grip, feeling power that he's never felt before course through her fingers, trapping him as if Mjollnir was sitting on his chest rather than the twig of an Enchantress. "W-what are you doing?" he gasped, his words barely escaping his lips.

"I'm taking some inspiration from the dwarves and making sure that no one hears from you in a long time," she told him. "From this moment forth, you will not be able to speak or utter a sound. You will stay this way until someone is able to take away your words even when you are unable to say them."

She looked down at the gaping God beneath her, his green eyes staring panic-stricken up into her dark ones as his mouth formed a silent scream.

"How very unattractive," Amora said derisively, tilting Loki's face from side to side, "I understand why the dwarves decided to practice their needlework on you."

Loki's heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He could not think of a way to escape, his magic rendered useless now that he could no longer speak. It remained like a still pool inside of him, untouchable, blank, and distant. He was forced to watch as the Enchantress pulled a silver needle out of the air, its end trailing a wire as black as night behind it, and pierced it through his trembling lips. Her stitches were even and taut and nigh unbreakable.

"Good luck, God of Lies," she blew him a kiss before shoving him through the portal to Midgard, "Perhaps some foolish mortal will take pity on you."

Heimdall watched silently as Loki fell.

_Sound of the drums  
Beatin' in my heart  
The thunder of guns  
Tore me apart  
You've been - thunderstruck_

"_THUNDERSTUCK!_" Tony yelled out the lyrics as he took a hairpin turn at ninety miles an hour. Orange desert dust spewed up from his tires as he took the turn, filling the air like smoke before the car broke through into the clear dusk air. The headlights caught the figure on the road before he did, sending a sprawling shadow down the highway. "What the f—" Tony swerved out of the way, the tires of his sports car spinning as he regained control and screeched to a halt at the side of the road.

He left the headlights on while he got out to inspect the damage. "Dammit, I just gave this thing a new paint job!" Tony cursed. Not that it mattered—he could have the thing painted again in a matter of hours. It was just the fact of the thing. Just when he had taken the newly painted car out for a spin, some whackjob had to wander into the middle of the highway and ruin it.

"Hey!" Tony called out to the figure. He barely registered that the asphalt was shattered in an almost perfect circle around where the man stood swaying on his feet. "Hey, what do you think you're doing? You nearly wrecked my car! This is hardly the best place for a night-time stroll."

The man was moving his hands to clench at his mouth as if he were about to be sick before he collapsed to the ground.

"One of those nights, huh? Hey, man, if you've had too much to drink I'll call you a cab—" Tony halted a few feet away, finally close enough to discern the features of the person in front of him through the haze of his car's headlights, and it was Tony's turn to feel sick.

The person on the road in front of him was none other than the God of Lies and Mischief himself. This man—this God—had single-handedly caused the Earth so much trouble that he was constantly on the Avengers' 'Most Wanted (_to kick the crap out of_)' list. Last time, he'd turned nearly half of New York into the North Pole. Tony wished he had hit the bastard.

"What is wrong with your face?"


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

Loki wanted nothing more than to scream. The fall to Midgard sent his stomach shooting up to his throat and made the blood pump wildly in his ears, as if rapidly counting down the time it would take for him to hit the ground below. It felt like forever and mere seconds all at once, and Loki could not prepare himself for the bone-shattering impact that tore through his body when he finally collided with the pavement. The asphalt cracked in waves around him, forming a mystical pot-hole around his torn flesh.

When he was finally sure that the damage was not as extensive as it felt, Loki pushed himself to his feet, his once immaculate black and green outfit now ripped and bloody on his limp frame. His fingers shook as he brought them up to touch his lips. The black wire was cold against his stinging fingertips, his lips tingling with the pinprick numbness of broken nerves when his fingers brushed against them. They were black and sticky with blood when he pulled his hand away.

This was not a new situation. In fact, it was the familiarity of it all that made him dizzy and sick to his stomach. Terror gripped his body just as fiercely as it had when Amora snatched his words out of his throat. The wire was just an embellishment of the Enchantress's curse—something to show the world that he had earned his silence, that he deserved this punishment. Loki swayed on his feet, drunk with fear as his mind spun about uselessly trying to come up with a way out of this.

He didn't see the car until it was too late.

"No, seriously, what the _hell_ is _wrong_ with your _face_?"

Loki stumbled as he tried to get to his feet, unable to regain his balance. Something about this mortal's voice nagged at his brain, but Loki couldn't tell what was so familiar about it. He didn't make a priority of memorizing mortals, and had mostly made a point of avoiding them altogether. Well, at least when he wasn't trying to get them to run and scream.

He set his scraped palms against the uneven ground again and pushed himself upwards. This time he managed to stand, albeit swaying once more, and looked at the man who had nearly run him over. The irony of it almost made him fall flat on his face once more. It couldn't be coincidence that Amora had tossed him down to the exact location of one of his enemies, forcing the very man who likely wanted him dead to swerve out of the way and save his life. The Enchantress was probably laughing at him right now, poking Heimdall for all the details. This was definitely _not_ the mortal who would take pity on the likes of _him_.

Loki started to walk away, lifting one foot at a time over the broken chunks of road. The best thing he could do was get away from the Avenger as quickly as he possibly could. Without his magic, Loki was certain that even this weakling had a decent chance of defeating him. Loki had been humiliated enough for one day, thank you very much.

"Where do you think you're going?" Loki tried to shrug the hand off of his aching shoulder, but found the fingers were gripped vice-like around his skin. Something was very wrong. Even an Aesir without magic should be able to push aside a mortal like they were made of leaves, but something seemed to be sapping at Loki's strength. Was this what it felt like to be mortal? Oh Gods, did this mean _Iron Man_ of all people could kill him? And Loki had thought being defeated by the Enchantress was degrading.

_Let go of me you stupid mortal or I'll replace all your fancy cars with tricycles._ Loki glared daggers at the man and again tried to pull away. He wasn't sure where he could go, but anywhere had to be better than there.

"Oh, no you don't," the man growled. There was a spark of understanding in his eyes that unnerved Loki. The spark turned into a full-fledged grin once the human had managed to haul the God towards his car. Loki squinted from the glare of the headlights and he raised a bloody hand to shield his eyes. He could tell Tony Stark was just about having a litter of kittens now that he realized that Loki wasn't in the position to fight back.

"That's some impressive needlework you've got there," he pointed. "It's quite an improvement, actually. You've certainly been acing the embroidery class."

_I know what to get you for your birthday, then. How about a nicely stitched shut-the-hell-up?_

Loki scanned the area for a hint of escape, but couldn't see anything beyond the desert. A flash startled him back to the situation at hand. He looked back at Tony Stark, who was holding up his phone and tapping away at the keys.

"This is a moment I don't want to forget," Tony offered as a teasing explanation. "Loki, God of Silence. This is _so_ going on Facebook. Moments like these are best shared, aren't they? I'm sure the rest of the team will get a kick out of this."

Loki was doing his best to ignore Stark, continuing to try to think up how to get out of this mess. Finally, he resigned himself to the only way out he could think of and took off at a shambling run.

It was pathetic, really. He really didn't think he could get anywhere, but he'd expected to get farther than _that_. And he'd been silently (there wasn't any alternative way to do it now) hoping that Tony Stark would trip and whack his head on a large rock while pursuing him, giving Loki the chance to make his getaway. As it was, Loki barely made it six feet before Tony Stark tackled him to the ground, bruising his already bruised body further and wrenching him back to the vehicle by the scruff of his neck. The man clicked something he'd taken out of his pocket and the trunk of the car flipped open obediently just in time for the man to toss Loki inside.

"Just in case the police stop us on the way, make sure you keep quiet back there!" the Avenger taunted before slamming the trunk shut and leaving Loki trembling in the darkness.

Loki had been certain that the first thing that the lowly mortal would do would be to parade him around trussed up like a prize turkey while all of his colourful freak show of a super team pointed and laughed like something out of a nightmare parody on television (and, yes, he knew what that was. He wasn't completely uneducated in human technology and entertainment. Television could be quite...amusing). Instead, his captor had parked the car and waited considerably longer than Loki thought appropriate before throwing open the trunk and waiting for Loki to pull himself out of it. When Loki finally extracted himself, he stretched leisurely, causing his joints to pop and his muscles to scream in pain, but he thought it would be best to put on a nonchalant air about the whole thing—as if it had been his idea all along to get captured and locked in the Avenger's automobile. He glanced over at Stark and barely concealed a smirk when he saw how wary the man was. The mortal still thought this whole situation may have been a clever trick rather than an unfortunate mistake.

Why Tony Stark had thought it would be a good idea to bring him to a garage full of cars and mechanical junk instead of straight into a straightjacket in one of Fury's holding cells, Loki could only guess. This place didn't seem an ideal jail cell what with its lavish couch and fancy blue screens. The exits seemed rather easy to escape through—only a garage door and a wall of glass, and he was certain he could find something heavy enough to shatter that wall. The only thing menacing about the place was the row of suits after which Tony Stark took his super name. The metal glinted in the light as they stood watch, sentries just waiting for Loki to step out of line so they could smash him to the ground. Of course there was no one inside, but it still felt like their dead eyes were watching him.

Loki drew his gaze back to the real Iron Man himself, his mouth twitching into a smirk that caused the wire to bite viciously into his lips. _You brought me to your house? How kind of you. _A drop of blood eased its way out of the inflamed flesh and dripped slowly down his chin.

"Stop that!" Tony snapped, waving inarticulately at Loki's face, "You look like something out of _Hellraiser_."

_What do you expect me to do?_ He frowned instead, the corners of his mouth falling, pulling at the wire in their descent. The horrified expression on the man's face was worth every bit of the pain. _That better?_

"Just—just look over there." Loki was shoved in the other direction, facing the glass wall. A woman with strawberry blonde hair had made her way down the stairs, and peered quizzically through the clear panel in front of her before swiping her card and stepping into the workshop. Somewhere at the far end of the room, Tony Stark was rummaging through what sounded like scrap metal from all the clanging and swearing that was coming from his direction. His ruckus did nothing to hide the woman's scream.

"What- is _that_? I mean—what is he doing here, Tony? What's going on?" she edged her way around Loki, who decided to observe what was no doubt going to be an argument.

"Ah, Pepper, I'm glad you're here. Have you seen my bolt cutters? I swear I had them just last Tuesday, but now they're gone."

"Bolt cutters? _Bolt cutters, _Tony? What are you talking about? Do you have any idea how serious this is? How did he get in here? Do any of the others know?" Pepper flung the questions at the man one after another, not receiving any answer.

"I brought him here."

"Brought him?—I thought we had an agreement about who you could bring to the house. I made it clear last time. You signed the contract."

Tony Stark stopped his rummaging, a large saw held loosely in one hand. "This is nothing like last time."

"No, it's _worse_, Tony. He could destroy the whole building or-or—"

"Or what? Challenge you to a staring match?" Tony shoved his hand into the bottom of the large mass of metal and grunted as he pulled another tool out from the pile. He raised it into the air triumphantly. "Found them!"

The man was making his way back to him now, carrying what appeared to be a very large, menacing version of wire cutters, Pepper Potts following only a step away. The cutters looked like they were more suited to gardening than whatever Tony Stark planned to use them for.

_Oh Gods, he's going to kill me_. Loki's eyes went wide as he realized just what Tony Stark had a mind to use that tool for. He dashed (stumbled really, he was in no state for dashing) towards the couch, putting the piece of furniture between him and his pursuers. _You just stay over there_, he pointed_, and I wont turn your shoes into serpents_.

"What happened to him?" Pepper directed the question at Tony as if Loki wasn't even in the room. Sure, he couldn't answer her, but some recognition at least would be nice.

"Couldn't keep his mouth shut, I'm guessing."

Pepper looked between the bolt cutters and Loki, flinching when she caught sight of his mutilated mouth again and darting her gaze away. "And you're going to just...cut it open?...Is that safe?"

"That depends on whether or not he can stay still." There was a glint in Tony Stark's eyes that made it obvious he was half-hoping Loki would squirm.

"I think I'm going to be sick." The red-haired woman left, forgetting whatever she had come downstairs to say in the first place.

_Now what, Iron Man? Are we going to play cat and mouse?_ Loki had already decided that the cars had more cover and he would try to get there as quickly as he could. The mortal still hadn't made his move.

"Tony!" Pepper's voice called from the top of the stairs, "Tony, why don't you just get him to write his words down?"

Tony Stark rolled his eyes. "Too easy."

But he dropped the bolt cutters and retrieved a coffee stained pad of paper and a pen all the same.


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: (I'm just beginning to get the hang of this site. It just got rid of all my edits and author's notes and then had me re-login.)  
What I really wanted to say is thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story so far! I am so glad that you are enjoying it and that I've managed to stay in-character with Tony and Loki. I will do my best to continue to do so. I will also update fairly regularly. I tend to have more written than I post because I end up reviewing it a lot before uploading it.  
Any comments, critiques, and suggestions are always appreciated!  
I hope you continue to enjoy my story.  
_

* * *

_Chapter 2_

"Take a seat," Tony slumped into the comfy, yet fashionable couch and patted the spot next to him. Confusion flitted across the God's expression before it was replaced by false (or maybe not so false) haughtiness. "What? My couch not good enough for you? Sit your fancy ass down or I'll take you to Fury."

The God of Mischief reluctantly obeyed, sitting so far on the other end of the couch that he was nearly on the armrest. He looked like he was going to run away at any moment, perched precariously on the edge of the cushion, although where he thought he could go Tony had no idea.

"Why so skittish? This is hardly our first date," Tony teased, watching the villain beside him stiffen and shoot him a nasty look. Loki had his fair share of pummeling by the Avengers and it was quite obvious that he was a sore loser. It was easy to read the thoughts flickering through the God's expression—Tony noticed the trademark _'you-insufferable-mortal'_ look of which Loki was so fond, as well as a few others that would have earned the mischief-maker a punch to the face had they been spoken out loud. Tony tossed the writing materials at him in response. Loki didn't pick them up right away, but when he did, Tony could have sworn he saw the Trickster's fingers shake.

"You do know how to write English, right?" He waited for Loki to respond and when he didn't, he started reaching for the bolt cutters on the floor. There was a hurried scratching and then the pad of paper was nearly shoved into his face.

_Of course I know how to write English, you stupid mortal._

"Good. So why don't you tell me why you're here?" Tony could make out the words "car", "idiot", "trunk" and a few choice expletives before he elaborated on his question. "No, not _here_ in my house, I mean _here_ as in Earth. I thought we'd beaten you enough times that we wouldn't see your face around here for a while. Unless of course you're looking for another beating. I'm sure I could arrange something." He'd let the God take that any way he wanted.

_This wasn't exactly a planned trip._

Tony pulled his legs up on the couch and shifted so he could better watch the God of Lies as he scribbled on the pad of paper. "So I see," he replied, "You know, if you wanted me to pick you up, you should have just asked."

Loki looked flustered as he scratched at the page, viciously crossing something out before flipping the pad over and showing it to him. _I'm not here to see you._

"No, you're here to show the world how wonderfully silent you can be!" He teased. The colour was rising in the Trickster's cheeks. Something about this was too easy, it was a little unnerving. Not to say that Tony didn't enjoy it.

_You're loud and obnoxious enough. Wouldn't want the humans to suffer too much now would we?_ The God of Mischief rolled his eyes.

"As if you've ever cared about humans!" Tony scoffed. "I would have thought you'd be begging me to cut your mouth open just so you can start filling the world with all that verbal garbage you constantly spew. This really is a treat—Loki keeping himself quiet, all of his own accord."

The God scribbled and scratched out the page, taking minutes to start and re-start sentences before obliterating them all and tossing the paper across the room in frustration. He looked like he was ready to kick a puppy or start crying or something. It was so outside the realm of normal Loki that Tony wasn't quite sure what to do. He could handle Trickster Loki or Deceiver Loki or Mischievous Loki—_Villain_ Loki. This was...he didn't know what this was. It was just sad. Tony extricated himself from the couch and picked up the paper, glancing at the scorch-like scribbles but unable to decipher any of the words. He handed it back to the distraught man (there wasn't anything God-like about him) on the couch.

"Why don't you want me to cut the cords?" he asked, the teasing tone gone completely. He had never been good at sounding like he cared, but he didn't have to be a jackass about everything. Tony Stark had some compassion.

The words were wobbly, as if it had taken a great effort to write them. _It wouldn't make any difference._

"Sure it would. For one, I wouldn't need to feel like I have to pinch myself out of a nightmare. Seriously, Hellraiser, you have no idea how creepy you look." Loki gave a slight shrug, and something about the way his eyes creased told Tony that the Trickster wanted to smile but couldn't. "If anything, do it for my sake. I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle."

_You make it sound like I have a choice._

"Well, I suppose all things considered you don't have a choice. Not unless you want to starve. From the amount Thor eats, I'd say that Gods need food too. He eats me out of house and home whenever he's here. Pepper's been complaining about the shopping." Tony slumped back into the couch. "But I'd rather not have to hold you down. I might end up taking out your eye by mistake and then Fury would have a field day. He thinks he's the only badass cyclops around here. You'd have to watch your back."

More scribbling. Loki eyed him suspiciously over the paper. He flipped it around slowly, fingers covering the bottom of the page. _I don't trust you_

He removed his slender fingers, revealing the rest of the message: _but if you hurt me I will follow Lex talionis to the__ letter_.*

Tony reached down and grabbed the bolt cutters, suppressing a shiver. "I'll just have to be careful then."

A hand caught his sleeve before releasing it quickly. Loki held up a new message:

_Aren't you worried I'll use my magic once I'm free?_

"Are you telling me I should be worried?" He snorted a laugh. "If you'd been able to use any magic you'd have changed into bird and flown the coop by now. No. I don't think there's anything to worry about. You might even owe me a favour. I like that."

Loki shot him a look that might have meant 'I'll make you eat your words', but it was hard to tell.

"This might work better if you lie down," Tony suggested. The angle was odd from the sitting position, giving Tony much less control of the heavy tool in his hands. It was impossible to read the emotions that flashed across Loki's face, but when it looked like he was about to protest, the God relented and lay himself down on the couch, placing the paper and pen on the floor within arm's reach.

This was not the first time Tony Stark had straddled someone on this couch, but this was certainly the first time that someone had struggled. It was quite obvious that this was _not_ what Loki had in mind when Tony told him to lie down.

"Hey! You better quit it or I swear to God I'm going to get my kinky handcuffs and tie you down where you wont be able to get up until I'm done with you!" Tony grinned. "That came out _way_ dirtier than I intended it to be—and it sounds like fun! I might actually try it if you don't stay still."

Something akin to dread had filled the God's green eyes and he stopped struggling immediately. The look on his captive's face told him he would much rather lose an eye.

Tony took advantage of the Trickster's stillness and lowered the bolt cutters until the sharp tip snagged against the thick wire that snaked its way through his swollen lips. He worked carefully, easing the end of the blade under what little space there was between where the flesh met the metal. When he'd caught enough of it on the sharp edge, Tony wrenched the bolt cutters shut. The metal was much tougher than he thought it would be, but it finally snapped under the pressure.

"That's one down," he muttered. The body beneath him shuddered with panicked breathing and Loki had scrunched his eyes tightly shut. Tony lowered the cutters again and caught the next stitch in its pincers, trying not to tug too much on the raw skin as he snapped the jaws closed again.

One by one the black stitches were severed until the blades of the bolt cutters were covered with blood and Tony was drenched in sweat. With each cut, it seemed to get more and more difficult to tear through the metal, leading Tony to believe that there was something Aesir about it. He could have guessed as much from the state Loki was in, but this was the nail in the coffin. Somewhere in the heavens, not so long ago, the God of Mischief had met his match.

A first aid kit had appeared on the coffee table—no doubt Pepper had dropped it and ran. He didn't blame her. If the stitches were _Hellraiser_-esque then the blood dripping from the God's torn lips was definitely something out of a Romero zombie flick. He was _so_ going to have nightmares tonight. Tony dropped the bolt cutters and grabbed the kit, slipping out the tweezers to extract the last of the metal shards.

"Punk really isn't a good look on you," Tony joked, trying to keep his mind off of the blood as he worked. Loki had finally peeled his eyes open and their emerald green surfaces were glassy, his brow above them knitted with pain and slight confusion. "That's the last of it." He dropped the last twisted piece onto the mangled pile on the table. "It just needs to be cleaned."

Loki's hands were shaking too much to do the job, or at least that's what Tony thought to himself as he wiped away the blood until the skin came through pale beneath the cloth. The wounds were still ugly and unhealed so Tony slipped a clean cloth into Loki's hand so he could catch any of the blood that threatened to drip like tears from the gaping gashes, but the Trickster's lips were no longer sewn shut. Why Tony had thought that would be a good idea, he had no clue. He supposed he was somewhat curious to find out what the God would do once he was free. He found himself hoping he hadn't unleashed a monster.

As much as Tony liked to see how uncomfortable it made Loki to be sitting on him, he got up to wash his hands in the nearby sink. Finally free, Loki pulled himself back into a sitting position, curling himself into the couch and leaning the paper on his knees. He wrote slowly, trying to steady his quivering hand.

_Thank you_ Loki ripped the piece of paper off of the pad and handed it to him. Tony wasn't sure if the God was too embarrassed to say the words out loud or if he was too traumatized from being straddled by his magnificent self. It didn't matter.

"You're welcome," he said, keeping his snarky and inappropriate comments to himself for once. The timing was wrong. He folded the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket, proof of a favour owed.

* * *

"Come on. You look like you need to crash." Five minutes into flicking through the millions of television channels, the God had fallen asleep, the blood-stained cloth clutched in one hand and the pad of paper in the other. His chest rose and fell steadily as his breathing became shallow and Tony didn't bother to wake Loki up until he started to twitch like a dog having a bad dream. The last channel he'd stopped at was playing some Disney movie—something about a girl and a weird blue alien. He powered down the screen and nudged Loki again. "I've got a guest room upstairs. I can throw out a set of sheets, but if you get blood on this couch there's going to be a reckoning. Now get up."

Loki moved his lips as if he were trying to say something before clamping the cloth over his mouth with a disturbed look. Tony shrugged it off as exhaustion and Loki being weird and led the super villain up the stairs and into the separate room. It was as good a place as any to keep the God until he could figure out what to do with him. He still hadn't reported it to any of the other Avengers, though he had been flicking through the contacts on his phone just as often as he had been flicking through the TV channels. Loki wandered over to the bed, glancing over at him before climbing under the covers. The silent Trickster set the paper on the nightstand, watching Tony with wary eyes as he shut the door.

"Jarvis, make sure that no one opens this door except for me. It is to remain locked until I say otherwise."

The locks clicked in place and the life-like voice responded, "Yes, sir."

"Oh and, Jarvis?" Tony called out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell Pepper to pick up some ice cream."

* * *

_*A/N: Lex talionis is a term for retribution. You may know it better as "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth". It means that someone who harms another must pay compensation to that person in equal measure. _


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Loki tried the door for the fifth time to no avail. He may not have been in one of SHIELD's specially structured cells, but that didn't stop the well-furnished Stark guest bedroom from feeling any less like a prison. There was an adjoining bathroom, a bed, a nightstand, a stack of clean clothes left conspicuously on the dresser, and four walls with absolutely no windows. It was a jail with a few more accessories, but a jail nonetheless. He'd eyed the clothes with distaste, preferring his tattered tunic to the sweatpants, boxers, and black t-shirt he'd been left. He was injured, yes, and captured by one of the lowly Avengers, but that did not mean he had to dress like some common street cur.

_Let me out!_ He wanted to scream. Instead he made due by bashing his fist against the door, hoping that someone would hear it. _When I get my powers back, these doors are the first to go. Then I'll send in a band of thieves steal all your precious suits._

Muffled voices bantered back and forth out in the corridor and Loki pressed his ear against the wooden surface of the door in attempt to eavesdrop. It was no use, the words refused to make themselves clear to him, although he could have sworn his named had been mentioned. Footsteps stopped outside the room and Loki had to stumble back in order not to be smacked in the head by the door swinging inwards.

"Look alive, sunshine!" the abominable Tony Stark singsonged cheerily. "You have a good sleep? Because I had an awful sleep, thanks to you. Now how about you pay me back by having some breakfast with me?"

Loki did not think that a breakfast date with Tony Stark was suitable restitution, and would have told him exactly what the man could do with his time had he been able to speak. But instead, he stood struck dumb by the Enchantress, forced to give Stark the satisfaction of his silence. It wasn't even worth writing the man a threatening message, so Loki ignored him.

"Not hungry? I don't believe that. And I got you something special too."

Pepper peeked her head into the doorway. "Tony? You've got a meeting in an hour and a gala appearance scheduled tonight. You really should—"

He shot her a bored look. "Cancel it. Don't you see I have company?"

"About that, SHIELD called this morning requesting that you—"

"Cancel it. Tell them I'll call them later."

The woman left in a huff, clearly displeased as she pulled out her cell phone and began tapping furiously. It was quite obvious that Tony Stark did not run _Stark Industries_. Tony followed her, pausing only to tell Loki to change before he joined him for breakfast. He said something about his resemblance to circus people, but Loki took it to mean the same thing.

_Since when have I started taking orders from Tony Stark? _He grumbled inwardly as he picked up the clothes that were left to him. _Couldn't he at least have picked out something more flattering?_

Loki emerged from the unlocked room, remembering to bring along the pad of paper—which had gotten exceedingly thinner since it had been given to him. He shifted uncomfortably, unused to the strange garments, and walked down the corridor in the direction he guessed the kitchen was in. He was relieved to see more windows as he walked into the more open room. There was even a skylight in the ceiling, which would come in handy should Loki feel the need to make a sky-bound escape.

"How's the mouth, Hellraiser?" Stark called from the kitchen. "Still the stuff of nightmares? Yup. I'm not going to sleep again tonight. You owe me another breakfast."

Loki frowned. _I owe you nothing, mortal._

But, truth be told, it did feel like Loki had just clawed his way out of a nightmare. His body was healing, slowly but surely, but his mouth still stung with every twitch of his lips. All the expressions of which Loki was so fond—mirth, disgust, hatred, maliciousness, taunting—all of them sent stabs of stinging pain through his sensitive flesh.

"Ah, I see, still the strong, silent type? Scratch that. Just the silent type." Tony Stark emerged from the freezer carrying a container covered in frost and grinning from ear to ear. "Take a seat."

Loki reluctantly pulled up a stool and sat, watching while Anthony Stark doled out a sizeable bowl of ice cream and slid it his way. This was breakfast? It seemed more like a bribe. _What does this man want from me?_ He shot Stark a 'you-can't-be-serious' look, disregarding the bowl and the spoon in front of him and taking up the paper and pen.

_What is this about?_

Tony laughed at him and pulled up a stool across from where he was sitting. "You want the truth? I want to know why you haven't opened your big mouth yet—or tried to leave, for that matter. I honestly had no idea you enjoyed my company this much."

_You're sorely mistaken. I think I'd find better company in a pile of mud._

"That doesn't explain why you haven't taunted me in anything other than your finely penned words," the man pointed at the paper with his spoon before taking a taste of Loki's ice cream.

_I'll take that as a compliment._

"Quit dancing, Loki," he snapped, "why can't you speak?"

_You wouldn't understand. _

"That's hardly an explanation—and I'll have you know that understanding is one of the many things I'm good at. But you know what? I'm not so good at this interrogation stuff. Maybe I should call in a few favours at SHIELD..."

This human was starting to get on his nerves. If he was going to contact SHIELD and Fury then he should just get it over with instead of stalling on the issue. If he was going to end up in a prison cell, then Loki would rather the man just follow through with his threats. It was getting difficult to take Stark seriously.

_Call them. You're so desperate for their praise. Just call them and have it done. I'll bet they'll throw you a bone._

"Eat your ice cream," Stark pushed the bowl closer to him and got up from his stool. He ruffled Loki's hair as he walked by. "I'll be downstairs."

_So much for that breakfast date_ Loki rolled his eyes before smoothing his hair down in annoyance. He waited until the man was gone before trying the frozen dessert. He had to admit, it was better than he thought it would be.

* * *

The silence was killing him. Not that he hadn't experienced long periods of silence before, it was just that those times he at least had the _choice_ to speak if he wanted to. Now he couldn't say a word or utter a sound, no matter how hard he tried. Even his yawns of boredom were completely void of sound. The only method of communication he possessed was the pad of paper, and it had rapidly depleted after his bout of cartoon-drawing. Horn-helmeted figures stomped and crushed the Avengers until they splattered like road kill and screamed for mercy. The inked horned God laughed his refusal from his place on a jeweled throne, a shiny crown held high in his hands. He'd made quite an impressive flip-book cartoon out of it.

It gave him some happiness, at least for a few hours. But soon it began to dawn on him that maybe he would never speak again—that maybe his words would forever be confined to paper and he would remain powerless. Now that was a frightening thought. And worst of all was being trapped in the mansion of the biggest loud-mouth of the Avengers. Soon, everyone would know about his predicament. They might not even bother locking him up. He wasn't even worth their time.

Fury was a different matter. He would be harder to convince of Loki's muteness. He'd probably think it was just another of Loki's tricks—a desperate ploy to make the heroes spin circles while some serious evil was going on somewhere halfway around the world. He'd torture a confession out of him, or at least he'd do his best. The process itself was half the fun for that man, Loki was sure of it.

* * *

In the end he wasn't quite sure why he descended the stairs—whether it was out of boredom or fear or loneliness—but he knocked on the glass door at the bottom and Tony Stark let him in.

* * *

The door hissed open and Loki stepped inside, noting that the door had sealed itself as soon as he had passed the threshold. Stark was sitting at his desk, 3-dimensional blueprints of his latest additions to the Iron Man suit hovering about in the air as the man flipped through the pieces like they were book pages beneath his fingers. He disassembled and reassembled the pieces until they formed a complete suit with a new arsenal before he tossed the whole lot of it into an empty file folder.

"Back up those files, will you, Jarvis?" he called out before spinning in his chair to face Loki. Loki had been watching while Stark worked, impressed at the detail that the man put into every tiny aspect of the suit and the speed at which he processed the information and made corrections.

_What was he thinking? He wasn't impressed by Tony Stark. The human was just as notoriously stupid as all the others._

"Feeling lonely?" the man asked, the teasing edge easily inflecting the question. All the same, Loki was a little surprised at how correct his assumption was and did his best to hide it. He pulled out the piece of paper he'd brought with him and tossed it in Stark's direction. The folded plane's wings caught the air and sailed into his enemy's hands.

"Love poems, for me?" Tony grinned. "Aw, Loki, you shouldn't have."

He flipped open the wings and the body of the plane, zipping through the message scrawled on its insides. Tony glanced up at Loki, eyebrows raised, and held up the note. Loki's eyes passed over it, even though he knew exactly what it said:

_I crossed the wrong sorcerer, who in payment took my voice. _

_I can only guess why you have kept your friends in the dark about my capture, but I would like to know where we stand—empty threats and lies aside. _

_PS: This is my last sheet of paper. _

"Now if you ask me, that was pretty easy to understand. All except this bit here. You're asking me to be honest with you?" Tony Stark's mouth was curved in a teasing smirk, but his eyes were darkly serious. "Fine—you be honest with me and I'll be honest with you."

_That's laughable. It really is. Me? Be honest with you? You've got to be joking. You are joking, right?_

Tony Stark held out his hand to fix the deal. "Don't bother shaking on it if you aren't going to follow through. You lie to me and I'll put you in a soundproof room and you'll never hear another voice ever again. Now have we got a deal?"

_What an odd bargain—or should I say threat? Who does this guy think he is?_ Loki thought about it, considering what the truth from Anthony Stark was worth. Loki was a Liesmith and could manipulate words any way he wanted to, making even the truth sound false. He could make this turn in his favour if he was clever enough. He gripped Tony's hand in his own and shook it.

"Now, let's get down to business," Tony grinned. "Did you like the ice cream?"

Loki gave him a shrug before nodding.

"Good." He pulled out his phone and pressed the only number on speed dial. "Hey, Pepper? Yeah, yeah, I know. Tell you what—I'll give you a raise. Yeah, I just wanted to tell you that we're going to need more ice cream. Oh, and one of those small erasable board thingys. I don't want to keep buying paper. Loki is tossing it everywhere. No, not a chalkboard. Chalk dust makes me sneeze. Yeah, whatever you think is best." He hung up and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes, you were going to pronounce your undying love for me in wonderful prose."

Loki was beginning to feel like he had just done something very, very wrong.

* * *

_A/N: I'm definitely not talented enough to make a flip book cartoon of the Avengers getting their asses kicked by Loki, but if you are interested in some fun cartoon drawings of those scenes that Loki drew I will consider adding some links along in the notes for the next chapter. Let me know what you think. _


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"You have a sick, _sick_ mind," Tony muttered, flipping through the pad of paper Loki had left discarded on the table. As the paper sailed through his fingers, a crude drawing of Iron Man got kicked in the nuts and crumpled to the ground in a fetal position. The God of Mischief watched him grimace from where he was lazily curled up in a petit modele armchair, a glass-pieced chess game in mid-match on the low coffee-table in front of him and a large book flopped open on the floor from when it had been dropped out of boredom. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the God occupied without him breaking things or rummaging where he shouldn't.

Tony dropped the paper back where he had found it and took a seat on the armrest of Loki's chair. From this vantage point, he looked down at the emerald-eyed Trickster from a good few feet. The closeness made Loki fidget, feeling around the edges of the tablet-sized whiteboard that Pepper had dropped off the previous morning to be used as his new communication interface. There was even a cord that was strung through the two top corners so that Loki could carry it around while keeping his hands free. Tony had told him he could make some decent money by putting advertisements on it and wearing it like a placard, which Loki did not find nearly as amusing as he did. Tony was still trying to figure out how to take the whiteboard from the God while he wasn't looking so Tony could write dirty messages on it. So far he hadn't been successful—it seemed like Loki even slept with the damn thing.

"Does that still hurt?" he asked, reaching out so his fingertips were mere inches away from Loki's face. The God jerked away as if his hand was on fire, splotches of colour drifting up his cheeks. The holes from where the wire had previously stitched his lips shut still looked flushed and angry, but they were beginning to heal over and didn't seem to be getting infected, which was a good sign. If Loki hadn't had the healing capacities of a God, Tony was sure that the signs of his torture would scar, but even though he was incapacitated magic-wise and appeared physically without his God-like powers, he was healing steadily. The scrapes and bruises from his fall to Earth were already nearly healed within the past couple days, a feat that would have been impossible had he been rendered completely mortal.

_Don't touch me_ Was scrawled angrily on the whiteboard. Tony had been finding it easier to see the shifts in the way the God penned his letters whenever his mood changed.

"Hey, I'm just wondering when I should tell Pepper to take ice cream off of the grocery list. You can't live off that stuff, you know," he protested, but took his hand away. Instead, he made do with making the God increasingly uncomfortable by shifting so he was sitting in a more relaxed position on the armrest of the chair, his arm draped across the cushion on the back, behind Loki's shoulders.

_Keep it on the list_ Loki wrote. _There are over a dozen other places to sit in this room. Pick one._

"I could move to the other armrest, if you'd like," he teased. Tony knew that he was taking advantage of this situation. At this point he was just curious to see what kind of mischief of his own he'd have to do to make the God of Mischief snap. After their bargain of truth, Tony had admitted that he liked running his own show and the less that SHIELD was involved in his business the better. The last thing he wanted to do was hand over the control to Nick Fury and his minions. So he struck the God a deal: Loki could have free run of the house until Tony Stark was convinced that he was harmless enough to unleash on the world. If he didn't cause too much trouble, then Tony wouldn't call up Fury and SHIELD wouldn't need to be informed that any of this had happened. Loki could go on his merry way. The God of Lies had agreed, forced into a pact of truth, to be a temporary prisoner. It wasn't an entirely bad situation. Tony Stark had someone to constantly tease and test his one-liners on and Loki had a near unlimited supply of ice cream. For the past few days it had worked rather well.

_Don't you have somewhere to be?_ Loki inquired, clearly not amused.

"Probably. Pepper may have mentioned something. I wasn't really listening."

Somewhere down the hall adjacent to the living room, there was a mighty '_BANG_' of a door crashing open and a group of footsteps thundering closer.

"Tony Stark!" A voice yelled from the bottom of the steps that lead up to the main floor of the house. "I told you that if you were late for _one more meeting_ that I would bring the damn meeting to you."

Tony nearly toppled into Loki's lap in his hurry to get to his feet. This was the reason he should have paid attention in those meetings instead of showing up more than a little drunk and snoozing on the table while the rest of his teammates talked. Pepper should have warned him about this.

"Get up! Get up!" Tony hissed, grabbing Loki by the front of his t-shirt and shoving him towards the corridor that lead up to the guest room. "Hide yourself! _Now_."

He'd barely managed to shoo the God of Mischief from his living room before the place was swarmed by the Avengers, complete with Nick Fury who more than lived up to his name at that moment and who Tony could only assume was there for moral support. It was rare for the director of SHIELD to show up to their little powwows. They usually just talked about what villains they should all look out for (complete with fight stories), what orders they had been sent (this is when Tony usually fell asleep), and then ended up playing XBox or watching TV (which is when Tony felt miraculously awake again). It was not customary that things were so official.

"You could have at least called in advance," Tony complained, "I would have cleaned up a little."

There were empty ice cream bowls and spoons as well as crumbled papers strewn about the room. He glanced at the pad of paper that Loki had doodled in that was still lying on the stable. Steve Rogers picked it up before Tony could snatch it away. "I didn't know you were an artist," he grinned, flipping through the pages. "Hey, is that me getting crushed by a truck?"

"And me hanging upside down over a pit of spikes?" Clint raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the page, looking as if he were unsure whether or not he should feel offended.

"That's better than Natasha melting or Thor-" Steve burst out laughing.

"Fun time is over, children," growled Fury, taking the paper from Steve and tossing it over his shoulder. "Remember what we're here for."

"And what are you here for?" Tony tried to cover his nervousness with a tone of annoyance. "I know you guys don't have any cooler friends, but you have _got_ to stop mooching off of me. Remember what I told you about personal space?"

He could almost hear the snort of laughter Loki would have given him at _that_ statement—if he could have laughed, that is. Tony had not heard so much as a chuckle come from the God since he got there.

"We're here because Loki is here," Fury stated.

"What? No he isn't," Tony replied, probably a little too quickly. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him questioningly.

"Not _here_ here," Steve filled in. "Here as in Earth. The desert close by, actually, about a few miles north of here."

"My brother has been missing from Asgard for almost a week," Thor confirmed, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "I have been told he has come to Midgard to cause trouble."

"And _you_ haven't been answering your phone," Natasha remarked, "or you would have known this already. SHIELD's been fixing the crater that cretin left when he landed here. _You_ were supposed to be on the lookout since it's _your_ backyard he's landed in. I don't suppose you noticed anything?"

Tony was not amused by the sarcasm in her last line. "No, I haven't. I've been busy."

"So Pepper's told us." It was impossible to discern what the director of SHIELD meant by that last line.

"She has, has she?" Tony feigned interest as he stepped over to the chair that Loki had previously filled, nudging the large book of myths and tales under it inconspicuously as he sat down.

"What's the new project?"

"Project? Oh _that_ project," he lied, "I've been upgrading my suit. We're going to need a new arsenal if we've got some ass-kicking to do. And from your presence, I assume the ass-kicking is imminent."

"The only ass we're going to kick is yours if you don't start actively participating in this team," Fury pointed at him. That was bad. Tony tried to think of what he'd done wrong. Sure he'd played hooky on a few meetings, but he always showed up when there was trouble. Okay, he mostly showed up when there was trouble. There was that last time when he was- _ahem_- otherwise occupied, but that was a one-time thing. Well, a three-time thing, but they didn't need to know that. "I want you to start answering your phone and begin active surveillance of the area. I want Loki found before he starts wreaking havoc."

"That's all?" Tony looked at the group incredulously, "You're all here to tell me to answer my phone and keep my eyes open. You could have just texted me."

"You got anything to eat, Tony?" Clint called from the kitchen, Thor following at the sound of impending food. There was the sound of opening and closing cupboards. "Never mind!"

Tony huffed an exasperated sigh. Natasha was still watching him suspiciously and Steve was playing around with the glass chess pieces, pretending to make some really clever moves across the board. Fury had left without saying goodbye, leaving Tony a super-team to entertain for the afternoon.

"Hey, Tony?" Clint stepped into the living room, his arms full, "why do you have so much ice cream?"

"You really don't want to know."

* * *

He needed to re-program the locks on the doors. The ease at which Fury had entered his house with all of the Avengers in tow was disturbing, and Tony couldn't risk it happening again. He was sure that keeping a super villain in his house was probably some kind of federal offence. Plus, they had completely trashed his living room. Xbox games were tossed haphazardly on the floor, the cases empty and stacked in card-house fashion. The chess pieces had been set up and knocked over like dominoes, and there had been a rather vicious paper fight from all of the balled up pieces left around. Somehow all of the ice cream had been consumed, although Tony hadn't seen any more than three out of the five of them eat any of it. And they had wanted to stay late into the night. He had to convince them that he had some sort of science-y function to go to and that they were making him more than unfashionably late for them to finally leave—he had to put Pepper on speaker phone to cover for him...At least he thought she was covering for him. He didn't actually have a function to go to, did he? Damn it. Pepper never told him anything.

"No, the function is tomorrow night," she sighed into the phone when he called back to confirm, "though I'm honestly surprised you remembered at all. You didn't remember, did you?" The disappointment was clear. "Tony, for once will you just look at your calendar?"

"Why would I if I have you to do it for me?" he replied, stretching out on the couch.

"Just show up to this one, okay? Or next time I wont cover for you when your friends start trashing your house."

"Fine," Tony grumbled.

"So I'm guessing your little secret is still safe?" she queried. There was disapproval in her tone, but Tony Stark trusted Pepper Potts more than anyone else in the world. He knew she wouldn't say a word about his houseguest, no matter how much she didn't like it.

"Yep, seems to be, though he's probably tearing his room apart by now. He's been playing Anne Frank all day. Yeah, I'll check up on him. Don't worry about it. Everything's under control." Tony hung up and put the phone away. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the pristine white ceiling, glad of the peace and quiet. For being the life of the party, Tony Stark was a very solitary man. "You can come in now," he sighed, noticing the green eyes peering, cat-like around the corner of the hallway. The figure gave a startled twitch, as if he had thought that he'd been sufficiently well-hidden. "I didn't expect that to take so long." He offered the last statement as part explanation, part apology, forgetting momentarily that this was the God of Mischief and an afternoon of boredom was not punishment enough for his heinous crimes.

The villain crept around the corner into the living room. The whiteboard hung like a collar around his neck, and it struck Tony that the God seemed more like a dangerous pet than a prisoner. Loki glanced at the petit modele chair, which was currently occupied by a leaning tower of ice cream bowls, before taking a seat on the couch by Tony's feet.

"You missed the fun," Tony grumbled, exhaustion creeping up on him. From his position, he couldn't see what Loki thought of his having to hideout while the Avengers had a party in the living room. Could he have been frightened? It seemed a ridiculous thought. "I'm sure they would have loved to have you there."

There was movement at the other end of the couch and the sound of shifting throw pillows, and when Tony peeked down past his feet, he saw that Loki had curled up with the whiteboard hugged to his chest, their toes nearly touching. Tony smirked, dragging a blanket off of the back cushions of the couch and tossing a corner over the God.

* * *

When Pepper Potts stopped by the Stark mansion to check up on her immature employer (and drop off a carton of ice cream she'd thoughtfully picked up) on the way home from work, she found him sprawled across the couch, lightly snoring, his feet entangled with those of his prisoner. The villain looked so innocent, huddled against a pile of throw pillows that Pepper couldn't help but take pity on him. She draped a spare blanket over his shoulders, noticing that Tony had effectively hogged the other blanket all to himself. An emerald green eye peered up at her, hazy from mid-slumber, before falling closed once more. She left the silent house, switching off the lights as she went, a small smile tugging at her lips.


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! You guys are awesome. I think it's wonderful that you're enjoying the story so far. This was one of my favourite chapters to write. It really starts the relationship development between Tony and Loki. I know that Loki hasn't been quite as mischievous as he could be, but that is explained a bit. There will be more mischief to come, I assure you.  
_

_Chapter 5_

The worst nightmares were the ones when Loki knew that he was dreaming. Nothing he did in the dream world to try to force himself awake had any effect, and he was stuck beating his fists bloody on doors of consciousness that wouldn't open for him. He could tell that someone was watching—probably the Enchantress who had trapped him there—but every time he tried to look around, the scene turned to darkness and he fell. His scream was drowned out by the silence, and his desperate attempts to grasp at something steady were met with emptiness. Until, for the first time, someone caught him.

Loki wrenched his eyes open in a panic, heaving in shuddering breaths and staring wildly around. He was in a bright room with large windows on the back wall and an adjoining kitchen on the opposite side, with steps and corridors snaking downwards and upwards and to the sides, leading off even deeper into the heart of the house. He wasn't dreaming—he was in Midgard, which was a fair amount worse.

And someone had tugged him from his nightmare into this god-awful place. Rough, tanned fingers encircled his shaking, pale hand in a secure grip, running the pad of a thumb over his knuckles soothingly. Loki stared, momentarily confused before the reality of what was going on caused him to pull back, repulsed. He nearly got tangled in the cord that was looped around his neck, the whiteboard that hung from it banging against his chest as he tore himself away from the man beside him.

Had he—had he _really_ just been cuddled up next to _Tony Stark_? Loki felt like he was going to be sick.

"Hey, calm down, Hellraiser," the man raised his hands in a 'nothing-went-on' pose of surrender, "You're the one who kicked me awake with all your thrashing. I couldn't get you to wake up and you wouldn't stop so I had to get creative."

Loki felt cold now that he had extricated himself from the mortal and he crossed his arms so tightly over his chest that the edges of the whiteboard pressed sharply into his flesh. It wasn't nearly as distracting as he had hoped it would be. He didn't want to admit to himself that it had actually felt good to be held. That would be playing into Tony Stark's vicious plan to humiliate him. There was no other reason for the man's behaviour.

_Next time you choose to 'get creative', you can do it with someone else_, Loki glowered at the man, still unable to speak and not sure he could come up with the proper way to word his irritation in print.

"What's with the cold shoulder? One minute we're snuggling and the next minute you look like you want to kill me." The familiar spark had entered the man's eyes and a smirk was tugging at his lips. "Are we moving too fast? Because I can slow down if that's what you want. The wait is half the fun. Well, maybe not quite half—the other part is pretty damn spectacular."

If Loki had felt cold before, now he seemed altogether too warm. There was a phantom feeling of Tony's hand on his and it did not take a far stretch of the imagination to consider what else those hands were capable of. Loki felt like burrowing himself in the couch cushions and not emerging until he knew that Tony Stark had disappeared. It was infuriating how that man could insinuate such things—force him to _think_ about such things. _No. Stop. He wasn't thinking about anything of the sort._ This was just Tony Stark saying more idiotic, meaningless garbage in order to get a reaction from him. He would not give him the pleasure of one.

He had been a trapped houseguest at the Stark mansion for the past week, which seemed to Loki to be long enough to have proven to Tony Stark that he was absolutely powerless, not to mention mute. If he hadn't been, he would have escaped by now as well as called the Avenger more than a few choice names. He'd even been on his best behaviour and refrained from causing too much mischief (other than making a mess) in order to prove that he was capable of holding back. He'd maintained a relatively pathetic facade, even though he still felt the itch to wreak havoc. That meant that the mortal had to release him—they'd made a _deal_.

_You need to let me go_ He wrote on the whiteboard in clear letters, assuming that he had left no room for misinterpretation.

"Are you- are you _breaking up with me_?" Tony mocked offense, a false scowl failing to distort the gleam in his eyes. "But we were so good together! No way! No one breaks up with Tony Stark. I'll decide when this relationship ends—and it's _not_ over."

Loki ignored his ridiculous protest. _You made a deal with me. I've held up my end of the bargain. I haven't done anything wrong. You have to let me go._

The man shook his head, brushing away Loki's argument with a few simple words. "You haven't convinced me yet."

Loki glared. If Tony Stark was going to be the judge of his actions, then the man could keep him there indefinitely without so much as giving a reason. What had once seemed like a simple contract had just turned into a life sentence. How could he have been such a fool? Tony Stark was never going to let him go.

He put the whiteboard down on the couch, balancing the erasable pen on its surface before getting up from his seat. Tony just watched him as he picked up one of the many ice cream bowls that were left conveniently around the room. Loki turned the bowl around in his hands. It was a large, heavy-bottomed piece of ceramic, simply designed and very modern. With a silent yell, he chucked it at the floor to ceiling glass window that made up the wall behind the couch. The bowl smashed upon impact, raining shards onto the hardwood floor, but the wall remained unbroken and unmarked. He picked up another bowl and tried again, and another when that one failed. There were just over a dozen ice cream bowls in the living room and Loki smashed every single one.

"Are you done?" Tony asked. He was still sitting on the couch, holding a pillow over his head as a shield. There was a ring of shards around his legs, and a few scattered on top of his raised cushion. "Are you going to sit down with me like a grown-up or are you going to continue to throw a tantrum? Because if you're just going to keep breaking things, then I'm not going to discuss anything with you."

Loki's hands were shaking like they had a few minutes ago from his nightmare, but it did feel good to finally snap. He took a deep breath, convincing himself that the windows were just one of the ways to escape. He could try something else later. Tony's house couldn't be impenetrable. And he was gaining nothing by freaking out in front of Tony Stark. He stepped lithely around the pieces of shattered bowl and puddles of melted ice cream and brushed off the couch cushion before taking his seat once more. He could at least pretend to cooperate.

"That's better," Tony praised, setting down his makeshift shield. "Now we agreed to be honest with each other, so why don't we talk about this and set some things straight."

Loki snatched up the whiteboard and scribbled his message. _You broke your word. I have no reason to be honest with you._

"That's not true. I just said that I needed to be convinced that you weren't in a position to harm anyone before I let you go and this little _episode_ just goes to show that you're not ready." The mortal was talking to him like a child. Loki felt like drowning all his house plants.

_Don't bother using that as an excuse. You never intended to release me._

"I see no reason why I shouldn't let you go if you're not going to cause any more problems," the man explained, shifting into a more comfortable position only to be stabbed by a hidden shard of ceramic. He flicked it away impatiently. "And I will let you go when I'm certain of that. But right now you're a time bomb. You're pissed off that you can't talk and you haven't been able to blow off any steam. You're obviously in pain but you're too high and mighty to admit it. Frankly, if I were you I'd probably want to set the world on fire—and all you've done is wrecked a perfectly good set of bowls."

This was absurd. One moment he wanted him to not do anything bad and the next he was telling him he was supposed to unleash his anger? How much more contradictory could the man get? Loki directed his scowl towards the whiteboard in his lap, feeling like throwing it at Tony Stark's television as he wiped away at his old letters until the surface was bare. He picked up the pen to respond.

_What do you want me to do?_

Tony sighed and messaged his temple as if he had a headache. There were dark circles under his eyes, evidence of the lack of sleep he'd only been joking about for the past few days. "I want you to come over here. Then I want you to stop being such a brat all the time and acting like I'm about to throw you down a flight of stairs. We'll figure out the rest later."

Loki rubbed away at his last message until all that remained of it was a little dark smudge on his thumb. It would be so easy, so simple to write out the two-letter response that was echoing in his head. This mortal was crazy if he thought that Loki would go anywhere near him. Instead, he penned three letters into a question that opened up doors to answers that Loki wasn't sure he wanted to go through. _Why?_

The broken glass sounded like marbles as it tumbled to the floor. Tony Stark had closed the distance between them until they were so close it felt like they were touching before he had made contact. "I'll show you why," he told Loki, taking away the whiteboard and letting it fall to the floor with the shattered remains of the ice cream bowls. Before Loki could protest, the man had wrapped his arms around him and pulled Loki to his chest. He tried to pull away, but Tony's arms remained secure and before Loki knew it he had stilled and then finally relaxed into the embrace.

It had been a long time since Loki had been hugged by anyone, and it took him a while to get used to it. He rested his cheek against Tony's chest, the edge of the ARC reactor that kept the man alive nestled against his chin. The thrum of the energy source sent tingles rippling down his flesh and he shivered at little at the unfamiliar feeling. Loki couldn't bring himself to return the embrace even though his fingers clutched at Tony's shirt as if trying to tug him closer. Somewhere deep in Tony Stark's chest, his fragile heart thumped a steady rhythm.

"It's going to be okay," the man mumbled, rubbing comforting circles into Loki's back.

No. No, it wasn't going to be okay. Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Frost Giant of Jotunheim and Prince of Asgard, renowned sorcerer, villain of Earth and vanquisher of peace was helpless, weak, and entirely alone, with no one but Tony Stark to comfort him. No, it was definitely _not_ going to be okay.

When Tony loosened his hold and shifted to let Loki know it was alright to pull away, Loki couldn't bring himself to release the fabric of the man's shirt from his fingers. It stuck in his grasp, soft and crinkled against his palms. Letting go was like releasing himself from the last branch after climbing down a tree, and Loki's stomach lurched and his heart thudded wildly when he lost his grip. He pulled away slowly, unable to meet the man's gaze. Instead, he looked at the soft glow of the reactor through the thin, white cotton. There were black smudges from Loki's fingers, the remnants of his whiteboard messages staining the front of the mortal's shirt. Another smudge, damp and blotchy, darkened the top edge covering the ARC reactor. Loki rubbed at his eyes self-consciously, the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Feel better?" Tony asked, his voice low as if he were talking to a frightened animal. If this was all a joke, Loki hoped the man would reveal it soon. He would rather just get the punch line over with, move on, and hope that Tony Stark wouldn't share his sense of humour with the world.

He fidgeted in his spot, still much closer to the man than he was accustomed to. Too many thoughts zipped through his head, his mind whirling with confused feelings. But they were supposed to be honest, so he nodded, finally meeting the dark eyes of his enemy.

"Good," said Tony. "Now don't take this the wrong way, but I need a shower."

Tony Stark hefted himself up from the couch and tip-toed precariously across the hazardous living room floor towards the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. He paused on the first step, looking back at Loki still sitting dumbfounded amidst the mess. Loki was sure that his captor would say something witty and vulgar to him, but he didn't, and Tony ascended the staircase without saying another word.


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N: I really must apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I never intended to take this long between updates, but it's been a hectic week. Thank you so much for your reviews and kinds words. You are wonderful and I appreciate it so much.  
_

_Without further ado, this is the latest chapter. I assure you that there will be more Tony/Loki relationship advancement in the next chapter, so please stay tuned!  
_

* * *

_Chapter 6_

As soon as Tony disappeared, Loki got up from the couch and headed to his bedroom, also feeling the need to stand under a torrent of hot water. He stayed in the shower until his skin burned and his fingers were wrinkly and then got out and changed into some new clothes. He'd been given some pairs of jeans and a few t-shirts, but his old black and green tunic had long since vanished—probably thrown away. It still wasn't much of a wardrobe and Loki eyed the clothes with distaste before pulling them on and smoothing back his dark hair before it became unruly. A lanky, pale man with forest green eyes and a mouth mutilated with scabs and scars stared back at him from the foggy mirror. This stranger looked wary and closed, as if he were hiding a secret and was ashamed about it. Loki did his best to clear his expression before he turned away.

The living room was pristine when Loki passed through it on his way to the kitchen, all evidence of the Avengers' presence and his rage wiped clean. There was coffee bubbling in the pot in the kitchen, a pair of empty mugs ready and waiting beside it, and Tony Stark's assistant flicking through a newspaper on the counter. She looked up at him as he entered and immediately poured the hot beverage before passing him a mug and indicating the milk and sugar available should he want it. Loki sipped it plain before spooning in a lump of sugar. She prepared the other drink for herself and let the mug warm her fingers as the coffee inside it cooled.

"Tony is out today, and he asked me to keep an eye on you and run a few errands," she informed him, her tone letting him know exactly what she thought about the matter. "I want it to be absolutely clear that I am not your babysitter and that if you do anything to threaten me or get in the way of my work I will take every measure to incapacitate you until Tony returns. Do you understand?"

Loki peered at her and nodded, knowing that it wasn't worth the argument to disagree. He was irked that Tony had thought he needed a caretaker, but he wasn't altogether surprised after his outburst. His whiteboard was on the counter, its surface clean and the pen placed on the top, and Loki took a seat in the stool in front of it in case he needed to communicate. Pepper passed him a bowl of some kind of weird mush along with a spoon. He looked at it like it was alive.

"It's oatmeal and applesauce," she rolled her eyes, "Unlike Tony, I don't think surviving on ice cream is a good idea."

Loki tested the substance on his tongue, decided it wasn't completely abhorrent and continued eating. About halfway through, he dropped his spoon, the meaning of Pepper's previous words about her duties for the day finally sinking in. He grabbed the whiteboard, nearly knocking over his coffee as he rushed to scribble his message. _You're taking me out of the house?  
_

Pepper appeared to be wearing a look that was an amalgamation of amusement and concern. "Yes. Tony told me to take you out on some errands. I think he's completely crazy, but that's what he wants. Though if you so much as _think_ of running away or causing mischief, I will call up your big brother and he can cart you off to SHIELD and then-"

_I get it._ Loki cut her off by holding up his message. _I wont cause any trouble._

"You better not," she narrowed her eyes, trying to search out a lie. It seemed like she didn't find one since she returned to her coffee and her newspaper.

On the counter, hidden behind his bowl of oatmeal, Loki's fingers were tightly crossed.

* * *

Loki had a difficult time trying to figure out exactly what it was that Pepper Potts _did_—or, rather, what she did _not_ do. He had followed her to the headquarters of _Stark Industries_ for her to pick up some paperwork, then wandered through an art gallery where Pepper pointed to three art pieces through what appeared to be random selection and handed the curator a cheque, then they stopped off at a hardware store where Pepper had tried to make him carry a bunch of heavy numbered boxes to the car (he ignored that request), then they stopped off for soup. All the while, Pepper was making numerous phone calls and watching Loki like a hawk. Their driver looked more like a security guard than a chauffeur, which Loki suspected was supposed to intimidate him, but only made him want to see how much havoc he could wreak before Pepper decided to call in for backup.

At the art gallery, Loki had nudged the corner of every painting he passed, tilting them askew until the rooms looked slanted rather than the art and the whole place was ringing from the security alarm. He noticed that Pepper penned a few extra zeroes on the cheque before handing it to the curator by way of apology, to which the old woman seemed satisfied. Pepper had words with Loki once they'd gotten into the car, but he hadn't been paying attention. He was too preoccupied by his thoughts of mischief and escape.

He had also managed to swap a considerable amount of nails for screws in the hardware store, as well as spill his lunch on the floor, which left him both unsatisfied and hungry. He was always left alone long enough to pull a small, insignificant prank, but whenever he took a step towards a door or away from the car, Pepper always appeared at his side. _Was he being placated? Had Tony planned all of this out? _The very thought made him furious. As if he needed any help from these mortals to cause chaos. He fumed as he sat in the car, hand twitching to tug the ridiculous disguise the woman had made him wear off of his head.

"Will you stop playing with that?" Pepper demanded, looking up from her phone in annoyance.

He wrenched the _baseball_ hat from his head and tossed it across the seat at her. He had no idea _what_ baseball was or why it would make him look inconspicuous, but Pepper had been very convincing about what his day would be like if he didn't wear it. If anyone were to ask, she would say that he was her cousin visiting from out of town. Loki had been glad that no one had asked. He wasn't sure he would have been able to keep a straight face. The differences between their appearances were so blatant that he was sure no one in their right mind would believe it. The hat was uncomfortable, the brim always in his line of sight, and he was glad to be rid of it. Pepper didn't bother to tell him to put it back on.

Their next stop was one that Loki did not expect, even though he probably should have. He was led into a small shop with curtained windows, the front filled with shelves and racks of fabric of every colour and texture. In the back, behind a large desk with an old cash register and a heavy-duty sewing machine was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a greying beard.

"How can I help you?" the tailor asked, getting up from his seat and flashing them a smile. His glasses were perched unsteadily on top of his head and looked like they were about to fall when Pepper shook his hand.

"I'm Pepper Potts, I called the other day about getting some clothes made," she smiled. "I've got what he needs written down in order of when they need to be finished, and we had scheduled to have his sizes done."

"Of course, of course," the man took the paper from Pepper and gestured for Loki to follow him. Loki did so, allowing the mortal to take his sizes without complaint. If this meant that he wasn't going to be stuck in sweatpants, jeans, and t-shirts anymore, then Loki would willingly go through whatever the man asked of him.

The tailor tutted as he looked over the list again. "This seems rather soon to have all this done by."

"It's just the first few things we need finished right away," Pepper assured him, "The rest can wait. I have every faith in you."

The man nodded quickly and started pulling black and green fabrics down from the shelves, arms too full to wave them a goodbye when they left.

_What was that about?_ Loki wrote on his whiteboard when they got into the back of the car.

"Tony said that you don't have anything nice to wear, and nothing of his would fit you properly," she replied.

The rest of their afternoon was filled with more errands: picking up dry-cleaning, getting paperwork signed, making phone calls, ordering flowers, buying books, getting groceries, scheduling meetings and functions and press conferences and fundraising events. Loki was dragged all around the city until he almost wished he had been left alone in the mansion. He'd barely been given any opportunity to cause serious mischief, although he did manage to topple quite a large display of exotic fruit at the grocery store (and to his delight, someone had been struck in the head by a particularly spiky looking fruit). Part of him wanted desperately to ditch Pepper and run off after that incident, and there had been a chance when he could have done so successfully. But something stopped him and he wasn't quite sure what it was. He told himself that it was because he wouldn't have been able to get very far or that it wasn't worth having Pepper send the super team to collect him, but really he knew there had to be a different reason.

That said, it was still with reluctance that Loki got out of the car and followed Pepper back into the Stark mansion. She told him to get himself dinner and that there should be a package waiting for him in his room and that she was leaving him alone.

_Where is Tony?_ He asked, halting her for an explanation before she could leave.

"He's got an event tonight. You'll see him later" was all she said as she hurried out the door. The locks clicked shut behind her.

_Must be the function he promised he'd go to_, Loki thought, surveying the empty house. He made his way silently up the stairs to the main landing, feeling giddy at the thought of having the place all to himself. _Tony Stark, you wont recognize this house when I'm through with it._

* * *

After deciding that the last thing he wanted was another liquid meal, Loki bypassed the kitchen and headed towards the corridor instead, curious to see what kind of package awaited him in his room. His steps echoed around the house, the open concept of the building doing nothing to mask his progress. Loki liked to think that even without his powers his senses were heightened compared to mortals, which was partially why he found complete silence so unnerving. So when he was knocked off his feet in the hallway with no warning or indication of his attacker, Loki knew that he was in trouble. Something had wound itself around his neck, faster than a striking snake, pulled tight by two small hands in black gloves. The pressure around his throat constricted his windpipe and he thrashed against the hold, tugging at the cord with his fingers in a futile attempt to return air to his lungs. In a matter of moments, his head felt dizzy and light, dark spots dancing around his vision, and his movements became weaker. At the exact moment when he was sure he would pass out, the hold on his neck loosened enough to gasp in a break of air, and then he was dragged into the closest unlocked room like a sack of meat.

It was a room that Loki had just glanced in before, having no interest in the equipment inside. There was an elevated padded square stadium roped off in the middle, the space around it filled with weights and benches and strange contraptions. He was dragged kicking to the centre of the room where he was strung up against one of the stadium poles. He wasn't given enough of a tether to stand or to sit, and if he tried to do either, the cord would constrict once more, choking off his breathing—a handy trick, he had to admit.

He was forced to kneel in front of his ambusher, who he realized was a woman. She wore an outfit as dark and slim as a shadow, the only colour on her was her hair, which was closer to red than brown. She watched him with the intensity of a leopard, poised and ready to strike. Even though he had never been properly introduced, Loki had no difficulty in identifying the woman as the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff—fierce and renowned assassin of the Avengers. He really should have expected this confrontation since she had seemed entirely too suspicious of Tony's obvious lies the previous afternoon. All the same, it was getting a little repetitive—not to mention sore on his ego—to be defeated so many times in so few days. Why was it so easy to break into Tony Stark's house and yet so _difficult_ to break out of it?

"What are you doing here, Loki?" she finally demanded after thoroughly scrutinizing him.

_Oh, just taking in the sights, visiting some old friends_, he thought sarcastically. He would have told her as much had he been able. The whiteboard still hung around his neck, but it had twisted nearly as tight as the woman's garrotte and had flipped around to rest flat against his shoulders. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get it without his throat being slit.

"Tell me what you've planned. What have you threatened Tony with?" A knife appeared in the Black Widow's hand, glinting silver. Okay, now he _had_ to respond or else his throat would be cut.

All he could think was: _Threaten Tony? What the hell are you talking about? Tony's been threatening _me_. _

Loki raised his hands slowly, attempting to indicate that he was not a risk as he reached for the board.

"None of that," Natasha growled, now mere inches from his face, knife nudging his belly with its sharp tip. "No magic. Just tell me what you're up to."

Loki didn't know sign language, and the assassin probably would think it was some kind of ritual if he had. He shook his head, making a small slashing gesture across his mouth and throat to try to explain that he couldn't tell her anything. _Oh, no_. He hoped he hadn't given her any ideas. She dragged the knife upwards, the blade catching and slicing holes in Loki's t-shirt before she brought it up to his neck.

This is it. This is the end. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and hoped she would make it quick.

There was a whisper of sound and then a weight was lifted from him. Loki opened his eyes to see that Natasha Romanoff had cut off the whiteboard and was holding it in her hands, inspecting it carefully as if it contained explosives.

She passed it to him. "You can't speak, can you?" It was a deduction, not a question. He stared at her and then at the board. His neck was throbbing where the weapon was cutting off his circulation and he didn't want to shake his head.

The assassin sat back on her heels, her posture suddenly relaxed, though Loki knew she could strike again fast as lightning if she wanted to.

"Oh, Tony, you are even more of an idiot than Fury thinks you are," Natasha said to herself, continuing to study Loki in case he was feigning capture. "Caught a super villain all to yourself. Must have been hard to keep your big mouth shut. But I guess it wasn't even worth bragging about. He's not exactly impressive."

Loki glared at her and dropped the board, tearing at the bonds with his fingers. His throat burned and his breathing was ragged, and he was sick and tired of being the prey. A gloved hand slapped against his face with such force that it snapped his head back, slamming the back of his skull into the pole. He slumped to the floor, the noose catching around his neck until he floundered back to his knees. The Black Widow caught his chin in her hand roughly, forcing his eyes mere inches from her own.

"Fury was wrong. You're not a threat to anyone," her words sliced deeper than her knife. "Tony can keep his house pet, so long as he keeps you on a leash. I'll let SHIELD know we're barking up the wrong tree."

Without so much as deigning him a glance, the Black Widow tucked away her knife and walked away, her heels clicking on the tiled floor until silence filled the house once more.


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N:There was a whole lot more Natasha hate than I thought there would be...I'm looking forward to having some more Avenger-interaction/finding out about Loki in upcoming chapters. Hopefully they will turn out a little more light-hearted (at least some of the time!). Thank you so much for your reviews! They really inspire me to keep this going, and it's great to have a push into doing some creative writing. I'm glad people are getting enjoyment out of what I write. It's so rewarding. You guys make my day ;)  
_

_There are a lot of conflicting thoughts in this chapter. I hope it does not come across as too confusing. Frankly, Loki and Tony are very confused by how they feel, and their reasoning does not always make sense. I hope you still enjoy this development in their relationship. I don't know if they are moving too fast, but if you get that feeling, please tell me. It might be because I'm eager for this relationship to progress, but it only moves faster from here on out. I can always slow it down if it doesn't seem realistic.  
_

* * *

_Chapter 7_

Loki gingerly touched the red welts and darkening bruises that looped around his neck. His wounds were now competing against one another for which looked ghastlier. His pride smarted more than the raw flesh at the fact that both of them had been inflicted by women. Surely at this rate the next woman he met would send him to his grave. He didn't even want to think about what a man could do.

He ripped open the package that was waiting for him on his bed, glad to finally tear something to pieces. Inside was a long black cape with a high collar and an inside lined with a soft, luscious green. The material slid like silk beneath his fingertips, but held an impressive weight and shape when he threw it over his shoulders. The edges snapped out as they caught the air, adding an imposing presence to his otherwise stalky frame. He fastened the front and turned up the collar, shielding his new wounds. He had hidden the garrotte beneath one of the dresser drawers in case he had need of it, although he wasn't sure if he could ever use the thing. Maybe, one day, he'd be able to turn it into a snake—a constrictor that he'd send to strangle the Black Widow. Until then, it wasn't safe to keep it out in the open.

A note fell out of the empty packaging as he crushed it into a tight ball, and he bent down to retrieve it from the floor. The message was scrawled on a textured, high-quality paper:

_You look good in green. –Tony Stark_

The man had kept enough of his notes, so Loki thought it wasn't entirely foolish to keep this one. He slipped it into his pocket, running his fingers over it once more before he left the room to take advantage of his time alone in the Stark mansion. He relished the sound of his cape flapping behind him. It made him feel somewhat like his old self again.

He spent the evening turning artwork upside down and mixing up the contents of the kitchen cupboards, as well as trying to find the strangest places to put the house plants. He also rearranged Tony's entire DVD and CD collections until none of the discs were in their proper cases. It didn't even come close to the mischievous things he could have done had he had use of his powers, but it was satisfying all the same.

It wasn't until halfway through his pranks that it struck Loki that he hadn't unleashed any serious destruction. On the other hand, he had found out quite early that Tony Stark's house was impenetrable from the inside. He had tried every door, chucked every heavy object he could find at the glass windows, and had done his best to weasel some compliance out of the man's infernal computer, but to no avail. An Avenger could sneeze and have the house open to them, but Loki couldn't penetrate the walls even with his wiliest of ideas. He tried not to think about what would happen if there was a fire.

_Now there's an idea_. Loki smirked to himself. He darted gleefully into the kitchen, retrieving a cereal box that he had maliciously stashed under the sink. He twisted the dials on the stovetop and waited until the surface was glowing red before holding the box over it. Inside, the breakfast cereal tumbled, threatening to spill all over the place. Before he had a chance to flip the box the right way up in his hands, the cereal broke through the useless flap lid and cascaded its way onto the stove and the smooth tile floor, the O's bouncing madly when they struck the hard surface. Loki was quick to shrug off the mess as something to further Tony Stark's torment—that was until the cereal started to blacken and char on the stovetop, filling the room with the smell of burnt wheat. It wasn't until the box finally caught fire in his hands, the plastic and cardboard twisting like rotten black rose petals, that Jarvis took action. Loki rolled his eyes. The delayed response was probably due to Tony Stark's abhorrent cooking skills.

"Level 1 fire detected. Emergency response enabled."

Before Loki had a chance to rush to see if the doors had opened for an evacuation, he was doused by a torrent of cold water. There appeared to be a minute-long monsoon in the kitchen, which effectively killed his fire and drenched him from head to foot. What was left of the cereal box let off a pathetic sliver of smoke and he dropped it with a wet '_smack_' on the floor, fuming to himself.

He stomped out of the kitchen and went to dry himself off, scheming all the while about how to get back at Tony Stark.

* * *

It was only after he dried off his cape and changed into new clothes that Loki decided to hunt for something of the mortal's to break that was irreplaceable, even with all the money and technology in his possession. Having had no luck in any of the other rooms, he made his way up the stairs to Tony Stark's bedroom—the one room he had yet to venture into. He paused at every creak from the steps as if Iron Man himself would jump out to stop him. The feeling that he used to get as a kid when he snuck into the weapons vault in Asgard was thrilling through him: a pleasant reminder that he was up to no good. Surprisingly, the door was left unlocked, and Loki entered hastily, glancing around him. He was unsure what to expect.

He was disappointed by what he found. The master bedroom was much like any of the other rooms in the house, only slightly messier. There were large windows out of which Loki could see the ocean, and the furniture was all less than a year old, all edges and stark contrasts. There were a few pictures, but nothing with any sentimental value, and some clothes were strewn about the floor. Loki kicked the garments aside as he wandered, trying to seek out something—anything—about Tony Stark that the man held precious to him. Something Loki could exploit more than Tony Stark could exploit his silence. But there was nothing of value in the room.

Loki was about to leave, irked by his lack of success, when he heard shuffling and voices from downstairs. There was a lot of giggling and slurring of words and then stumbling steps at the bottom of the stairs. Loki looked around wildly, knowing that he would be caught if he didn't find a suitable hiding place.

"Oh, Tony," a woman giggled, "is this where you keep your suits?"

"No, Lainie-"

"It's Lisa."

The voices were almost at the top of the stairs.

"No, Lisa. This is where I take _off_ my suits."

Loki shuddered at the last statement, a look of disgust contorting his features as he gave up his wild search for cover and dove under the bed. He tugged his cape after him, snatching the last of it just as the door crashed open and the now fiercely entangled couple pushed their way into the room. Clothes dropped one by one as they made their way to the bed, eagerly grunting and moaning as they demanded more access to one another's bodies. The mattress dipped above Loki's head as they fell upon it and he tried to block out the noise by pressing his hands over his ears.

"Tony? Tony, I want you so bad." Loki felt his stomach turn at the cheesy line that was obviously the result of too much alcohol and mindless lust. The woman moaned and giggled as the mattress shifted. "Do you want me too?"

"Sure, Laura," Tony mumbled, his mouth otherwise occupied.

"It's Lisa."

"Whatever," Tony responded.

There was more movement above Loki, which was starting to make him feel like sneaking out from under the bed and scaring the living daylights out of the entwined couple, but at this point he doubted they would take any notice of him anyway. And then there was a sudden, jarring, stillness.

"What's wrong, Tony?" The woman—Lisa—asked.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." Tony was lying. _Why was he lying?_ Loki furrowed his eyebrows as he stared into the darkness. The mattress creaked again—Tony probably tried to kiss Lisa but it was evident that she had pulled away.

"Something's obviously wrong. What is it? Is it me?"

"No, of course it's not you. You're smoking hot, uh—"

"Lisa."

"—Lisa."

"Then what is it?"

"I guess—I guess I'm just too drunk or something. I think I need to lie down." More lies.

"Alright, we'll just lie down."

There was a pause.

"I want you to go home."

"_What?_"

"You need to leave. There's a car waiting for you outside. The driver will take you home."

"But I just got here. What is your problem?"

"Just leave. Get out." Tony sounded more than impatient now.

The woman snarled at him. "Fine. So much for all those stories about how great you are in bed. Do you pay girls to say those things? What a load of shit."

She slammed the door when she left.

* * *

Tony flopped over on the bed, clenching the covers tight in his fists. He'd been with hundreds of women—so many that he'd lost track and acquired quite an impressive name for himself—and he'd done some pretty stupid things before, but even when he wasn't completely attracted to whoever he was with he could always at least _perform_. _God, was this embarrassing_. He had to be sick or something. _I mean, that's got to be sick, right? Thinking about Loki when—__WOAH.__ Hold on a sec, buddy. You totally did NOT just think that. Loki is- is- just NO. You're into some pretty weird shit, but that's overboard. _

He stared up at the dark ceiling, trying to counter-argue with his conscience. His head was already muddled after the drinks he'd had at the function, and after that fiasco with Lila. Lyra? Whatever. He didn't need to put up with this. He could have anything—anyone—in the world. Why was it so wrong to want a God? Well, other than the fact that it totally killed his other sexual fantasies. It wasn't like it was dangerous. Unless, this happened again—then Tony was certain he'd be dangerously close to snapping. Other than that, it was harmless. It wasn't as if Loki liked him back. And there was nothing wrong with testing the waters, seeing how far he could push. And there was always that favour the God owed him. He could have some fun with this.

Being drunk did nothing to help Tony Stark be more sensible, and this was no exception. He closed his eyes, smiling to himself, his head filled with not-so-innocent ideas, leaving his tired brain to only partly wonder why his house smelled like burnt toast.

* * *

Loki waited until the man's breathing above him dropped into the low patterns of sleep before sliding himself out from under the bed. He started to tiptoe away when something snagged his cape and he let out a yelp that died as soon as it left his lips. He turned, ready to tear his new garment if he had to in order to escape when he saw that it was caught in Tony Stark's fingers. The man stared at him with foggy eyes, the understanding within them far too sober than it should have been. Loki froze in place; there was nowhere to run and at this point the confrontation was inevitable.

"Just because I give you a billowing cape does not mean you need to sneak into my room like a creeper," he told Loki, sitting up in his bed. Tony's chest was bare, the ARC reactor glowing softly in the darkness and illuminating the love bites from his romp with Lisa that trailed up his skin. Loki focused on the blue glow, desperate to keep his dignity by fixing his gaze upwards. "Come here. I want to see you properly."

Tony pulled at the cape and Loki didn't have time to unclasp it before it put pressure on his bruises. He was forced to step closer until he was at the edge of the man's bed.

"That's better. Green really does look good on you."

The heat was creeping up Loki's neck, and he was glad that the darkness masked the splotches darkening his face. It should have annoyed him that Tony Stark was giving him compliments, but it just made him feel embarrassed. And having them said by the man when he was nearly naked in bed did nothing to help the matter. The whole situation screamed _uncomfortable_.

Loki turned away, only to have the cape tugged sharply back again. He hissed in a breath and reached up to pull the cape away from his neck.

"Stay," Tony murmured, so softly that it didn't sound like a command. He still clutched the cape in his hand, but his hold was looser now. Loki was sure he could pull away.

But...he wasn't sure he wanted to, which was so utterly, completely _wrong_ that Loki wasn't quite sure how to handle it. This was _Tony Stark_ for God's sake. This man was his enemy, his captor, his tormentor. And he was _drunk_. The man had just kicked a girl out of his bed, mid-way through—Loki was _not_ going to think about it—and now he was asking him to stay? With him? In his bedroom?... In his _bed_? The intention was too clear. It was too much to process all at once.

No. No. _No_. It had to be some kind of trick. There was no other reasonable explanation. But whatever this trick was would surely humiliate Tony Stark just as much as Loki, right? Maybe this was something _he_ could use against Tony, rather than the other way around. Yes, in fact, maybe it would even be advantageous of him to take this opportunity, wouldn't it? Loki's brow furrowed as he fought to reason with his feelings.

Tony Stark shifted, some thought troubling his own features as well. Loki couldn't make it out before the man released the cape and flopped back down. This was his chance. He could leave and all the confusion would be over. He waited in silence as his battling thoughts screamed inside his head. Still he hadn't moved.

As if making up his mind for him, Tony flipped over the covers on the other side of the bed, leaving the perfect space to slip into. That was it. The curiosity of what it would feel like to fill that space made his insides crumble, and he relented before it could crush him. Loki folded his new cape around himself and burrowed under the covers, his back firmly facing the man beside him. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He huddled into a ball and forced himself not to think about whether or not Tony Stark was wearing pants.

A hand brushed against his shoulder and Loki winced, ready to bolt out of the room. He wiggled until he was right on the edge of the mattress, so close that he had to concentrate to keep himself from falling. Tony Stark would have none of that and tugged Loki to the centre of the bed and into his arms. The ARC reactor thrummed between his shoulder blades, making his skin tingle as if buzzing with static.

_What are you doing?_ Loki's thoughts were filled with panic and uncomfortable possibilities. He tried to pull out of the man's grasp. _Let me go or else I'll- I'll-_ He wasn't sure what he would do. The man's actions still did not make any sense to him, and the very idea that Tony Stark could _like_ him was so absurd that Loki didn't want to waste his energy thinking about it. He shoved the thought away along with his own troubled feelings and tried to focus on other things—like how it would destroy the Avengers to learn that one of their comrades was in bed with a super villain.

But it was in vain. All he could think about was what it felt like when Tony had hugged him the other morning—how warm and comfortable and at peace it had made him feel, even though it was wrong. Was that why he had gotten into this man's bed? Did he want to feel that again? Loki decided to stop struggling in order to find out.

He did not feel instantly better. In fact, he actually felt worse. The self-loathing that had filled him was so intense that he wanted to retch. He wasn't supposed to be doing this. He couldn't possibly want it. Tony Stark leaned his head against the back of Loki's neck and Loki couldn't help but think about what kind of harm he could do to the man once he had fallen asleep. But then it crept up on him, that strange feeling that seeped into the very core of his body and forced him to relax. It cleared his head until he found that he had welcomed the embrace.

It was impossible to say when it happened, but Loki drifted into a dreamless sleep—the first in a very, very long time.

* * *

_A/N: To answer a few Review questions...  
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_I have been sketching out a some of Loki's cartoons. Once I have them done, I'll post a link for you guys to check out if you are interested.  
_

_Loki is weak both from the curse and not being able to reach his magic. More than his words were taken from him, I assure you, but Loki himself does not know how much. He may acquire certain abilities in the next few chapters that will likely cause more chaos and trouble for Tony...  
_

_I do have anonymous reviews disabled, mostly due to inexperience with this site. For those of you who enable anonymous reviews, have you ever run into any conflict with it? I honestly don't know if it is any different than only having people with accounts review. Any information on this would be much appreciated!  
_

_Happy reading, and have an awesome day.  
_


	9. Chapter 8

_A/N: I must start off by saying that I am so sorry that this is up so late. I've left a lot of you waiting, and I apologize. Excuses in cases like these always sound lame, but there were some things that happened that were out of my control, the most annoying of which was my motherboard on my desktop dying. I had already written a huge chunk of this chapter (for the second time, no less) on my desktop and I had all of my drafts as well as my outline on it, so I thought I would wait until I got my new motherboard before I finished this chapter and uploaded it. The delivery on my motherboard was delayed and now we have to reformat my computer.  
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_So I re-wrote this chapter a few times. This version is not the same as what I had previously written, but I hope it is still to your liking. I have a feeling you'll like the next chapter a bit more than this one :P, so I hope you will still stick around! It should be up by next Wednesday (May 30th) since I'm out of town this weekend. I'll have the drawings up as soon as I have use of my scanner and tablet again (hopefully they will be done by next weekend).  
_

_Thank you all for your support, comments, and readership. I appreciate it so much. As always, if you have any suggestions or comments, please feel free to review!  
_

* * *

_Chapter 8 _

Loki woke up alone. He uncurled himself from his tight ball of sleep and stretched as languidly as a cat, unclasping his cape from around his neck and letting it fall into a pile on the bed. His neck burned as he passed his fingers over it, evidence of his further humiliation from yet another witch of a woman- and looking around Tony Stark's bedroom only made the feeling worse. Not only did it put strain on his bruised skin, but he was also forced to remember what the Black Widow had said to him after she had given him this collar of bruises. Had he really allowed her to call him Tony Stark's _pet_? And he let her leave alive? If anyone had told him a fortnight ago that this is where he would be at this moment, then he would have laughed in their faces and brought about their demise all the sooner. Yet, there he was, sitting in the bed of Iron Man himself after having spent the night curled up in his arms. He hadn't even needed any convincing, verbal or physical, to get him there. Maybe the assassin's words were more true than he wanted to admit. Loki's behaviour was no better than that of a dog.

Perhaps it was the curse of the Aesir to fall for mortals after falling to Midgard. Thor had been no better in his own exile, although the comparison made Loki feel sick. He had always considered Thor's interest in that woman to be further proof of his weakness. Loki had thought himself above such nonsense. And yet he still could not help but relish the feeling of falling asleep in the mortal's embrace.

It was pathetic, really. He was above this sort of behaviour. He had long ago given up the idea of relationships even with his own kind. Having companions only led to problems, and no one Loki had come across appreciated his trickery as much as he did-and that was one of the only ways he had been able to get anyone in his _own_ bed. Loki wasn't an imbecile. He knew exactly what the people of Asgard thought of him. Anyone who bedded the God of Mischief was a social pariah for years after the fact. No one would dare sink so low, unless they were thoroughly inebriated. Of course, Loki would prefer to make a game out of it: see who he could cast out of the Aesir social circles through illusion. It was fun...and slightly depressing. He would rather hold the opinion that no one was worthy to lie with him. But such lies to himself were not convincing enough to halt the loneliness. Still, Loki had never thought that such desperation would lead him to have feelings for one of the Avengers.

He shuffled out of the bed, attempting to shirk off the warmth he had felt just as he had done with his cape. He should not enjoy the warmth-he should despise it. Loki may have grown up in a world of towers and castles and trees, but his true home was a land of ice, and it made Loki desperately long for the cold. He wandered over to the window, watching the sea birds taunt him from the shore. They had such freedom that he could only wish for, flying about in the warm breeze and dancing along the waves. Here he was in a prison of glass, his magic so distant from him that he could barely caress it with his thoughts. He couldn't even call himself a God anymore. He did not feel strong, and his mischief had been sorely lacking in any real consequence. He had even agreed not to lie to Tony Stark, although that could have been a lie in itself-if he wanted it to. He had been Loki, the God of Lies and Mischief. Now what could he call himself?

Loki pressed his palm against the glass and leaned his face against the cool surface. He could even pretend that it was ice if he wanted to. It was easy to imagine the cold seeping up through his fingertips, sending an icy fire sizzling down his nerves. He could feel the frost prickling his skin, covering the window as moss would a tree. Loki sighed. Such fantasy would only make the reality of the situation more difficult to bear. He had to deal with his predicament, find a way to break out of this house, and cast away all thoughts of Tony Stark. Well, at least the thoughts that didn't have to do with killing him. It would do him no good to pursue his interest in the mortal.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from the window, ready to begin his search for escape anew. But this time when he looked at the glass surface, he could no longer see through it. The entire window was covered in a fine frost, rendering the clear surface opaque and the view an obscured darkness beyond the misted white ice. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, a grin already tugging at the edges of his lips. He looked down at his fingertips just as the blue was fading from them, suddenly feeling more powerful than he had in ages. For once in his life, Loki was glad to be a Frost Giant.

He nearly skipped out of the room, filled with triumph and scheming, leaving the frost to drip into water in the light of the sun.

* * *

Loki wandered through the empty house, knowing that it was routine for Tony Stark to spend his free mornings in the workshop downstairs testing whatever new technological idea sprouted in his puny mortal mind during the few hours of sleep he allowed himself. It gave Loki time to test an idea of his own. He went to the kitchen first, trying to remember where he had hidden the utensils before withdrawing a large kitchen knife from the drawer under the stove. Then he made his way to the room where Natasha Romanoff had strung him up by his neck, passing by the spot where he had been certain he would die. He avoided looking at it, focused instead on the far window. He had no interest in the events of the night before, or anything in the room, for that matter. It was just the last place anyone would think to look for him.

He stood in front of the glass window and pressed his palm on the smooth surface. His other hand held the kitchen knife idly as he stared out at the water that lapped at the beach mere steps from where he was standing. A wood paneled patio area extended out from the side of the house, granting perfect access to the sun and the sand. All of this was also irrelevant other than the fact that he was on the ground level of the house and all he would have to do was run once his plan had worked.

Loki closed his eyes and concentrated on the cold, trying to feel the same icy fire through his limbs as he had mere minutes ago in Tony Stark's bedroom. He stretched his fingers over the glass, exhaling once he finally felt the frost begin to bite at his fingertips. It wouldn't be much longer now. He concentrated the cold to that one area, certain that whatever substance the window was made out of would not be able to handle such a rapid temperature change. Once he had frozen it, he would strike, cracking open the prison and escaping into the land beyond. When he could no longer feel his hand, he opened his eyes, their reflection flashing green in the glass as he raised the knife. He would have to work quickly, removing his hand just as he moved to crack the glass with the blade. He held up the knife as if he were playing the five finger fillet, silently counting down.

_One...two..._ Loki's fingers twitched in anticipation. _Three._

"What are you doing?"

Loki's grip slipped as he stabbed at the glass, the blade bouncing harmlessly off of the warm surface mere inches away from the frosted handprint he left behind. The knife flew out of his hand as it ricocheted off of the unbreakable substance, falling to the ground with a '_clang_'. Loki growled in frustration, the sound rumbling silently in his throat. He turned and glared daggers at the man who had come up behind him. _Why must you ruin __everything__, mortal? _

Tony Stark picked up the knife and turned it in his fingers as he inspected it, shooting Loki a suspicious glance. "What makes you think a knife would work any better than anything else in my kitchen? You've already gone through all of my bowls. I guess I'll give you points for creativity, though." He stepped closer, appearing more and more adept with the blade the closer he got to Loki. Tony spun it around his fingers with a smirk.

"But if you decide to toss my fridge at the window next, give me a heads up. I'd rather you not waste any of the alcohol that's in there. Speaking of which, a drink would be pretty nice right now, don't you think? You look like you could use-hey what is that?" The smile on his face vanished as he peered at Loki. The man closed the space between them, forcing the God to take a few rushed steps back to avoid contact. The wall hit solidly against his shoulders, and Loki did not have time to edge away before Tony's fingers had touched his neck.

"Did you do this?" Loki wasn't sure whether or not the mortal's voice was filled with anger or concern. It sounded more like anger to him, even though his fingers were gentle. Tony had clasped Loki's jaw in his free hand, passing his thumb along the edge before tilting Loki's head upwards to clearly see the bruises that mottled the skin below it. Loki's face burned with embarrassment, both at his discovered defeat and at the ease with which he accepted the mortal's touch. Disgusted with himself, Loki gave Tony a rough shove, forcing the man to release him.

_Do. not. touch. me._ If Loki could snarl, he would have. _Of course I didn't do it. Why would I strangle myself, you idiot?_

Tony reached out for him again and Loki struck him hard across the face. Loki was a wordsmith by nature, but having had his words taken from him, he was forced to resort to other methods. Tony stared at him, shocked, as if this behaviour was uncommon for Loki. He'd been docile too long, this man had started to forget he was a villain.

"That was uncalled for," said Tony pointing at him with the knife. The man looked down at the raised weapon as if he hadn't realized it was there and then gestured with it again. "What happened to you? Did you do that to yourself?"

_Yes. Yes of course I did. Your company was just so damn pleasant that I tried to off myself because of it._ Loki rolled his eyes.

Tony peered at him again, taking another step closer. Loki stood his ground, body tense and ready to fight should he decide to get closer. But the mortal only studied him. His intelligent eyes panned across the oddly shaped bruises in a knowing way that made Loki feel unreasonably guilty. There was a moment when that glance looked angry, as if Tony was ready to strike out, but it faded with a sigh and a shake of the head.

"Come on. You really do need a drink." Tony let his hand fall to his side and turned away, gesturing for Loki to follow.

* * *

Loki hesitated. It was much too early in the morning for alcohol and just the thought of spending time with Tony Stark while having such mixed feelings about him made his stomach turn. But looking back at the window, his plan undiscovered yet interrupted, Loki had to agree with him-he really did need a drink. He followed Tony into the kitchen where the man had already started the search for the glasses Loki had hidden the other day.

"You have got to get yourself a hobby," Tony muttered, finally discovering two tumblers in the cutlery drawer. He filled them with ice and then poured them both a generous dose of scotch. He then proceeded to lead them into the living room, where Loki found his whiteboard on the table. Tony set the bottle of scotch beside it and sank into the couch.

"So it looks like you and Natasha had fun yesterday," Tony indicated the marks encircling Loki's neck and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Loki shifted on his feet and then took a drink. For Midgard liquor, the stuff was quite good. Loki located a spot on the couch that was quite a distance from Tony and took a seat. "You want to tell me why SHIELD isn't banging down my door right now?"

_As if they would have to bang down your door. They could breathe on it and it would open to them. Your security is pathetic. _Loki pointedly ignored the whiteboard and took another sip of his drink.

"Fine," Tony set down his glass and pulled out his phone. "I'll just ask them myself." He flicked through his contacts and had it ringing on speakerphone in his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Stark." The woman's voice made Loki cringe.

"Hello, Ms. Romanoff," Tony responded sarcastically in kind.

"What do you want? And make it quick. I'm in the middle of something." There was a jumbled noise- something like a crash- in the background.

"I want to know why I came home and found my _stuff_ broken." Tony sounded miffed, as if Natasha had come in and raided his workshop, but the look Tony shot him made Loki burn with rage.

_How dare you call me that. I am a GOD, not some _object_._

"And by 'stuff' you mean your new pet? There are rules about keeping wild animals, Tony. I had to make sure he wasn't going to bite anyone."

"Any reason why you didn't cart him off to the zoo? I'm sure Fury would think he'd make an excellent exhibit."

Loki snatched the whiteboard up from the table, his knuckles gripped tight around the edges. They were talking about him like some kind of animal. He would tolerate it no longer.

After a pause, the woman's voice answered, somewhat out of breath. "You seem to have him sufficiently muzzled. If he goes feral give us a call." The phone clicked as Natasha ended the call.

"Well, I guess that answers th-"

Loki had gotten up from his seat and swung the board at Tony Stark's head. It caught the man across the jaw and there was a flash of red as it cut a line along his cheek. He managed to get in a couple more hits, none as good as the first now that his element of surprise was gone, before Tony caught the board and wrenched it from his hands. The man aimed a well-placed hit to the gut and Loki recoiled, pulling back before assaulting the man again, this time with an adept backhand strike and a kick that sent Tony sprawling back on the couch. Getting up would be a mercy Loki would not allow. He grabbed one of the man's arms as he tried to fight back, twisting it sharply until Tony Stark writhed on the couch in an attempt to get free.

_You're not as tough without your suit, man of iron. And I am not so weak as I once was._

He continued to twist Tony's arm until the man was forced onto his stomach, his cut face bleeding into the couch cushions. Loki straddled him, confining the man's kicking legs between his own and pressing down on the back of Tony's neck with his forearm. He increased the pressure until Tony cried out.

"Uncle! Uncle! I give in! You gonna take my lunch money or what?"

_You mortals and your currency. I have no use of such things._

Loki did not relinquish his grip, but instead concentrated as he had with the window, calling upon the ice inside of himself to freeze the prone man beneath him. It should not have been difficult. He recalled the feeling of the icy fire through his limbs, could even feel the ghost of a frost on his fingertips, but he could not conjure the ice as he once had. Whether it was because of the realm or the heat or his current weak state, he could not tell. The man's skin felt sizzling hot to his touch, forcing a different type of feeling shooting through his limbs. Perhaps- just perhaps- he did not want to freeze this mortal.

_How absurd. Of course I want to kill him._

Tony echoed his thoughts. "Are you going to kill me already or are you going to just sit there?" The man's voice was slightly muffled from the couch cushion. Loki found himself easing up a little on the pressure but didn't move. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry! I'm not actually going to let them put you in a zoo. Ow! Ow! _Ow!_ Will you _quit it_ already? I can't feel my arm."

Loki peered down at him, enjoying his position of power. He wondered how much he'd have to twist Tony Stark's arm before he had him begging for mercy.

"You know, if you wanted to straddle me on the couch, you should have just asked," the man grumbled. "Now if you're not going to kill me or take advantage of me, then let me up. I could really use a fucking drink."

Despite the humour, Tony's voice sounded strained. It struck Loki that he'd only fought this Avenger in his suit until this moment and that he appeared to be much more fragile than Loki had thought. He shouldn't have cared that he was hurting this man. In fact, part of him wanted to finish him off right then. It wouldn't have taken much more effort-just a bit more pressure. But he did care. And besides, he did owe him a favour.

_Curse you._ Loki released his grip with a huff of annoyance. _If you refer to me as anything less than a God again, I will personally see you drawn and quartered._ _Do you understand?_

Loki toppled as Tony Stark shoved himself upwards, quickly gaining the strength back in his freed arm. Panic and indignation flashed through Loki as he fell, landing splayed on his back as Tony got up. There was a moment when Loki was sure that Tony could have reversed their previous positions, but instead the man poured himself a new glass of scotch and took a long drink.

"You didn't kill me." Tony Stark shot him a sideways glance, smirking as he continued to sip his drink. "You really do like me."

_If that is your criteria, it is no wonder why you are so full of yourself. Maybe I just don't feel like killing you right now. Maybe I'm planning something more painful. _ Loki pushed himself into a sitting position and crossed his arms defensively. He avoided the man's gaze, instead focusing on where his drink had spilled on the floor when they had fought.

"Here." Tony had re-filled his glass and nudged it against Loki's arm. Loki accepted it with raised eyebrows.

_Are you trying to get me drunk?_

As if reading his thoughts, Tony grinned mischievously.


	10. Chapter 9

_A/N: I don't even know why I try to give myself deadlines-they never seem to work out! I just got all of my programs on my desktop the other day so the drawings will still take a little while longer. Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
_

* * *

_Chapter 9_

Tony Stark was up for a challenge. No mortal could best one of the Aesir in a drinking competition, and Loki was damned if he was going to make this an exception. Once again he found himself in territory that he had always considered to be that of his brother, Thor. It wasn't like Loki to spend time with mortals on an intimate level or drink until he lost his wits. He hadn't considered either pastime to be productive or particularly worthy of his time. Those who were drunk could be easily manipulated, and Loki preferred to be the one in control. Why someone would ever want to drown their faculties in drink was something he could not comprehend, but that did not stop him from allowing himself to find out.

He had lost count of how many times they had passed the glass of scotch back and forth. Tony re-filled it nearly to the top each time they emptied it and the contents of the bottle was growing dangerously low. Loki could not help but remind himself that it was still before noon and such behaviour was unacceptable of someone of his status, but he soon dispensed of the thought_—_probably around the time he stopped caring when Tony's fingers touched his own when he was passed the drink.

"You don't do this much, do you?" Tony grinned as he sipped at the scotch.

Loki picked up what was left of his whiteboard, snapping off the cracked frame from around its edges with sluggish hands. Thankfully the thin white panel that made up the inside remained unbroken, providing him a surface to communicate on. He had to concentrate more than usual when he penned his message, wanting more than anything to come across as more coherent than he currently felt. He did not want to give Tony Stark the satisfaction of knowing that he was more than a little tipsy.

_What do you mean?_ He shot Tony a puzzled look, hoping that the alcohol did not take away his ability to hide his guilt. Was he talking about how Loki did not make a habit of drinking or could he be referring to something else? Had he been so transparent in the extent to which he was forced to restrain his feelings after every drink? Was he that obviously ill at ease?

When Tony tried to pass him another drink, Loki refused it with a firm shake of his head. He was sure that if he took another sip he would do something he would regret. Tony put the full glass on the table within reach and then eased himself into a more comfortable position on the couch, sliding in close to Loki until their legs were touching.

"I mean for a villain, you're pretty straight-edged," Tony joked. "Not even just for a villain! Aren't you, like, a _Norse God_ or something?"

_I do not know what kind of impression my brother has given you, but the Aesir are not a bunch of alcoholics._ Loki looked down at his message, feeling rather proud that it was both legible and properly spelled.

"I can't even get that guy drunk! That's not what I mean. He just didn't give me the impression that you were a bunch of prudes."

Loki stiffened, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as he glared at Tony. _I'll have you know I've been with plenty of people—GODS no less. Even you could not hope to compare. _

He wiped away his old message furiously in order to clear a space for his angry scribbles. _I am NOT a prude._

Tony laughed, shaking his head as he read the statement. There was a spark in the man's eyes that unsettled Loki from the inside out. He knew exactly what that look meant. Loki barely registered that Tony had slid his hand onto his thigh, tracing teasing circles just above his knee, because that look said '_Prove it'_ and Loki found himself wanting to.

He snatched the front of the man's shirt in his fists, his knuckles grazing sharply against the metal edge of the ARC reactor as he tugged Tony Stark until their lips crashed into a harsh kiss. _You want proof? _Fine._ I'll give you proof. _His teeth snagged on Tony's bottom lip, demanding entrance to the mortal's mouth. Tony readily complied. Loki allowed himself to explore for only a moment, teasing Tony with his tongue, before shoving the man onto his back. There was a flicker of uncertainty in Tony's eyes that made Loki smile as he straddled him. _That's right. Be afraid, little human. I could do things to you that you could only dream of._

Every rational thought that screamed that this was a _very bad idea_ was locked away somewhere at the back of his mind. Loki barely acknowledged that he'd allowed Tony Stark to get to him. Right now, _he_ was in control, not Tony, and he would do his damndest to show this man exactly what he was capable of.

He slid his hand up Tony's shirt, feeling the toned muscles ripple beneath his fingers as he felt his way up to where the skin thrummed with the energy of the ARC reactor in the man's chest. Loki smiled at the strange pulse and at how easily he could make the mortal squirm. The metal device was cool beneath his fingers, contrasting with the heat radiating from Tony's skin. The temperature was comforting and almost familiar to him, even though the reactor itself still felt alien. It was still a wonder to him how such a thing worked, having been crafted by mortal hands and yet holding such _power_. All the same, like all mortal creations, it was fragile, and Loki knew that if he wrenched it from the man's chest, Tony Stark's heart would cease to beat.

It seemed that the same thought had also begun to worry Tony Stark. Despite his obvious enjoyment of Loki's caresses, a worried line had creased his brow when Loki had placed his palm flat on the reactor, just above Tony's heart. He twitched beneath Loki, looking like he was unsure whether to fight for his life or allow the God to continue.

"You're such a tease," Tony growled impatiently, deciding to opt for humour. One of his callused hands had found its way up the back of Loki's shirt, tugging the fabric upwards to reveal the cold ivory skin beneath it. Loki allowed himself to be exposed, enjoying the tingling feeling that shot through him whenever Tony's warm fingers touched his flesh.

_And you are in too much of a hurry. Why is that?_ Loki smirked as he shifted on Tony's lap, eliciting a moan from the man. He decided to help Tony along and finished removing his own shirt before pulling off Tony's. The blue glow from the ARC reactor illuminated Tony's chest, turning the bronze skin eerily pale and casting dark shadows over the small bruises scattered over it. _Is it because the woman who left these was so unsatisfactory? _Loki followed the marks with his fingertips, pressing down on them lightly. _Could it be that you wanted me instead?_

It was an absurd notion, but one that was heavily supported by the pressure of the man's arousal beneath him and the moan that escaped his lips when Loki began kissing and nipping a trail of marks up to Tony's neck that would put Lisa's to shame.

"L-Loki," Tony's breath hitched as the God sucked at the space between his collarbone and his neck. Loki's emerald eyes flicked upwards, meeting the man's gaze, hazy with lust. "Just- _ah_- be gentle. Okay? That's_—_oh _fuck_ just come here."

Tony clenched his fingers impatiently around Loki's torso, his nails biting into Loki's back as he pulled the God tighter against himself. The man's lips caught his own and Loki found himself smirking into the kiss. He felt flush and warm and completely unashamed of his behaviour. He half hoped that it was not just because of the scotch. The taste was heavy on Tony's tongue as it explored his mouth, but Loki did not care. His head felt wonderfully fuzzy and his own arousal made his whole body tingle down to his toes.

Loki was vaguely aware of a noise off to the side of the room, but he forgot it as soon as Tony looped a leg around his own and flipped him onto his back. The new pressure of Tony on top of him caused Loki to squirm, his heart pounding fast in his uncomfortably tight chest. He shot Tony an _'I-liked-things-just-fine-the-way-they-were'_ look, but the man dismissed it with a kiss that left Loki's head spinning. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Tony was also a man who liked to remain in control. His strong hands wandered their way down the God's body until they found the edge of Loki's black jeans, where they unfastened the button deftly and slid down the zipper.

"Is this okay?" Tony halted his movements and looked down at Loki searchingly. He didn't come across as someone who asked permission for anything, but his tone was so serious that Loki couldn't help but feel he had somehow judged Tony Stark wrongly. He nodded his assent. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

"I would beg to differ."

Dread fell over Loki like a bucket of cold water at the statement from across the room. He glared over at the intruder with a mix of hatred, annoyance, embarrassment, and fear. Tony Stark was likewise startled, but handled it with the ease of someone who was used to being interrupted in the middle of this kind of thing.

Tony crossed his arms and peered at the man haughtily. "If you don't like it, don't watch, Barton."

The assassin snorted a laugh. "I wouldn't have to watch if your walls _weren't made out of fucking glass_." He pointed at the floor to ceiling window behind the couch.

"Y-You're _spying_ on my house?" Tony looked appalled. Loki pushed the man off of himself and hurriedly did up his pants.

"You stay there," Clint ordered, pointing the end of his bow at Loki. Even without an arrow notched, the thing looked deadly. "You're under unofficial surveillance."

"Unofficial. You mean your girlfriend sent you." With an exasperated sigh, Tony got up from the couch. He picked up Loki's shirt from the floor and tossed it at the God, who slipped it on gratefully. "Sorry to waste your time, Barton, but there's nothing to see. I've got it under control."

"Are his lies rubbing off on you? From where I was sitting there was plenty to see, and if your idea of under control is to get wasted and fraternize with the enemy, you're doing a hell of a job."

"_Fraternize?_" Tony laughed. "Is that the _unofficial_ word for 'fuck'? Oh, sorry, '_fool around_'. You kind of interrupted that first one. Man, you and Natasha must have one hell of a sex life. How much did she promise to _fraternize_ with you for you to spy on me?"

_What are you doing, Stark?_ Loki felt like covering his eyes in order to block out this nightmare. He knew exactly where this fight would lead, and no ending he could think of had Tony coming out on top or him anywhere but in a cell. Even if he wasn't drunk, Tony Stark could not hope to beat an assassin with a lifetime's experience in hand-to-hand combat.

"Take a seat, Tony," Clint cautioned. Tony had made his way over to where the assassin was standing, his tense muscles betraying his anger.

"You're going to tell me to take a seat in my own house?" he pushed the intruder roughly. "Why don't you leave?"

"I'm not going to warn you again. You're drunk. You don't really want to do this. Take a seat."

Tony Stark had collapsed unconscious on the floor before he could lay another hand on his teammate. Hawkeye picked up his bow swiftly from where it had fallen, surveying his drunk friend with a small shake of his head. Loki had barely been able to see how the assassin had managed it. He saw the bow strike the floor and then Tony, the actions in between nothing but a blur. Was he hurt? Tony's chest rose and fell steadily, but Loki found himself worrying all the same. It was a sickening feeling.

"He'll be fine. Should be up again in a few hours," Clint informed him. "I wouldn't say the same for you if you attack me, so stay where I can see you."

_Where else am I going to go?_ Loki rolled his eyes. The turn of events left him feeling much more sober_—_more than enough to know that no good would come from fighting this man. A nauseous feeling had taken over his stomach, but he wasn't sure whether it was from the appearance of yet another of his enemies or that all he had consumed that morning was a bellyful of scotch.

"Nat? Yeah, there's been a bit of a situation at Stark's." Barton kept an eye on Loki as he spoke into the phone. "No. I don't think that's necessary. We need to re-think this. Yeah. See you soon."

_What is it with these Avengers and vigilantism? _Loki was puzzled by the fact that the first person the heroes called when something went wrong was never their superior at SHIELD. He had been sure that the Avengers would take their organization more seriously. Weren't the good guys supposed to play by the books? Their associations were unnerving; their rule-breaking behaviour was more akin to villains'.

"Now what should I do with you?" Clint muttered, peering at Loki from across the room. Loki peered right back, not offering any suggestions. "Don't go thinking I missed that thing with the window this morning. Tony Stark may be dense as a doorknob for a super genius, but I didn't miss that freezing trick you did. You're obviously not as powerless as you're letting on."

_I will take that as a compliment, mortal. Perhaps your spying has some use after all._

Loki frowned, a wave of nausea rolling through him. He clenched his arms around his middle, trying to force it to be calm. It was starting to become clear to him that drinking had not been a good idea, especially on an empty stomach. As a God, most would have thought him immune to such sickness, but he knew better. He'd gotten Thor sick on wine when they were children. He'd convinced the stupid lout that it was juice. Thor had drank the better part of three bottles before their mother found them.

Glancing at the assassin to see if he would protest, Loki reached for what was left of his whiteboard. Clint watched him like a hawk, but did not protest the action. The assassin actually looked somewhat amused. Loki looked down at where he had written "_I am NOT a prude_" in large letters and felt himself go hot. Had Hawkeye actually been a witness to all of that? He wiped away the words, leaving his fingers covered in black smudges. His stomach clenched again as he wondered how to word his discomfort.

He decided that clarity was more important than appearing strong in front of the assassin and simply wrote: _I feel unwell._

Clint looked from the message to the nearly empty bottle of scotch on the table, taking the hint immediately. He heaved an exasperated sigh and muttered something like _'I-was-told-I-wouldn't-have-to-fucking-babysit'_ before gesturing for Loki to stand.

"C'mon," Barton drew an arrow from his quiver and slipped it into the string of his bow. He held it loosely in his hands. "Stay in front of me and don't try anything."

* * *

After having stumbled his way to the bathroom and gotten rid of the toxic liquid from his belly, Loki sat in a heap on the tiled floor, his body aching but no longer nauseous. The assassin slid a glass of water across the tile towards him before hefting himself back up to where he had been perched on the bathroom counter during the whole process.

"Feeling better?" Clint asked. Loki couldn't tell if the man was asking because he felt obligated or because he was legitimately concerned, but he nodded all the same. "Good. Now if Tony ever tries to get you to drink again, you can tell him to go fuck himself, okay? He's a bad influence."

Loki laughed, the silent giggles racking through his body like sobs. Since when were the heroes a bad influence on the villains? He could only imagine what he'd be like if he joined the other side.

"Let's go. Tasha's going to get here soon." Hawkeye hopped off the counter and waited for Loki to finish his water before leading him back into the living room. There was no need for the man to spare him the humiliation, but Loki did not question it.

When they got back into the living room, Loki took a seat in the petit modele chair beside the couch, folding himself into it comfortably so that he could watch both his old guard lying unconscious on the floor and his new guard who currently stood watch. He wasn't sure how to feel about his current predicament. There was no sense in dwelling on the fact that he liked Tony Stark. They would not be able to keep up this routine for long. Already two of the other freaks knew he was there. It was only a matter of time before the others got wind of him: Fury with his agents_—_or worse, Thor.

He had to escape before it was too late.


End file.
